


The Talons: Saviors of Gotham

by EndgameArchives



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham (Video Games), Batman: Arkham - All Media Types
Genre: A woman developing feelings for a croc man, Abuse, Angst, Blood, Blood and Gore, Crime, Death, Drama, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Gore, Language, Murder, Psychological Trauma, Romance, Sex, Strip Tease, Tags under construction, Trauma, Vaginal Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2020-10-03 19:29:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20458265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EndgameArchives/pseuds/EndgameArchives
Summary: Gotham has always been a place of tragedy. It's been a place of crime, death, and despair. The criminals that lurk those streets make the city the hell it is now, and Batman isn't doing it any favors by letting those awful criminals live. He sends them back to their stone sanctuary to plot their escape and cause more pain to the citizens.But no more. It's time for true justice to reign, and it can only be handled by the right people. A new rule shall be engraved in the minds of all the scum and villainy of Gotham City: beware the Court of Owls.Alternate sequel to Batman: Arkham Asylum





	1. Savior

Rain. No matter what time of day, what day of the week, what week of the month, what month of the year, it would always rain. That was a guarantee for Gotham City; always be sure to pack an umbrella. The sun had chosen not to shine on the grey city in over a month, and who could blame it? The city was a disgusting pit that either nurtured the painfully rich or the despicably criminal with innocent people trapped in the middle. There were men, women, and children that lived in the city that could either be the nicest person in the world and die at age 25 or they could be rotten to the core and live to be 107. Families that were located in Gotham were at the mercy of each other and the city itself, torn apart at a moment's notice and nothing could be done to stop it.

One such family was walking along one of Gotham's many grimy sidewalks in a not-so-safe part of the city. They were a father, a mother, and a teenage daughter and by the looks of it, they were a family of wealth. They seemed lost in an unfamiliar world, and they weren't the only ones that noticed. As they turned down a dark alley, they didn't notice piercing eyes on them from afar.

"Face it, Vincent. We're lost!" Alice said as she looked up at the rooftops to see any familiar landmarks.

"I know where I'm going, Alice!" Vincent retorted. "Just took the wrong turn somewhere." He looked up at the tall buildings above like his wife, hoping to find something familiar if she wasn't able to.

"Dammit, Dad. Why couldn't we just drive to the cinema?" asked Tasha as she pulled out her phone to look at maps. It read 'no signal' in the top right corner of the screen. "Fuck," she muttered. "I can't get any signal." She put the phone back in her pocket and turned around to look back at the way they came in. The alley they went down was open and empty when they walked down it, but now Tasha could see that that was not the case anymore. What looked to be two large figures stood at the alley's entrance, blocking the escape.

"Um, Vincent?" Apparently, Alice saw them too. Vincent focused his gaze on what his wife and daughter were looking at and was horrified to see the figures approach them. They could now see that the two figures were men in strange clothes, most likely members of Gotham City's many gangs. One advanced on Vincent and Alice while the other stayed back and leered at Tasha, most likely standing there incase she tried to make a run for it.

"Gimme your wallet," the first thug demanded in a gravelly voice as he got into Vincent's personal space.

"I... I'm sorry?" Vincent stuttered, the fear of what was happening and the volume of the rain that made it hard to hear and made him respond slowly. The thug pulled out a gun and held it against Vincent's abdomen, which caused Alice and Tasha to gasp.

"I said..." the thug spat. "Give me your fucking wallet." Now fully understanding what was happening, Vincent reached into his back left pocket and pulled out his wallet, but he dropped it from his shaky hands. Before he could pick it up, the thug pushed him with the gun. "Leave it." Doing what the thug said, Vincent stood trembling from the cold rain. Now, the thug turned his attention to Alice. Tasha was scared now; if her father couldn't do anything to stop the dangerous men like the man he was, then what was her mother going to do. "Gimme your purse," said the thug. Alice immediately took her purse off her shoulder and handed it to the thug, who snatched it out of her hand with a dirty smirk.

The thug began to back away, his gun still raised at the parents. He reached down and grabbed Vincent's wallet to put it in his own pocket before his friend guarding the alleyway spoke up,

"Hey Gene. You thinking what I'm thinking?"

The thug apparently named Gene looked back at his buddy who was still leering at Tasha. The look the man gave Tasha was unsettling, longing, and extremely predatory. Gene followed his gaze to Tasha and produced a similar grin on his face.

"Yeah, Ron. Yeah I do. And I think the boys back at base would really appreciate what we brought back, huh?" Gene asked, answering his friend's question with his own. "We could give her to those guys from the trafficking group. They'd give us a shit ton of money for this pretty thing."

The thug named Ron only gave a little chuckle in response as he stomped towards Tasha. Tasha had been petrified up until this very moment when the thug stomped over to her and wrapped his arms around her entire midsection. She didn't know why her voice came back to her in that exact moment and she didn't care since it was there now, and she used it to her fullest extent by screaming and crying for help and asking if anyone could hear her. The noise stopped suddenly as Ron clamped one of his dirty hand over her mouth, making everything muffled and useless. Tasha started kicking and biting when Ron's other hand reached around her throat and his hot breath got cascaded onto her neck.

Tears were rolling down her face at this point as she realized that this was actually happening and nothing could stop the men from doing whatever they planned. What made everything worse than it already was, something that Tasha didn't even think was possible, was that her parents weren't doing anything to stop the men.

"You're gonna make us millions, aren't ya?" asked Ron into Tasha's ear. Tasha gave one last pleading glance at her parents and saw one look in both of their eyes: the look of defeat. Now Tasha understood why her parents were doing nothing to save their baby girl; there was nothing they could do. If they tried to do anything like rush at the goons or call for help, they would most likely get shot and Tasha would still be in the same situation but with no chance of anyone knowing what happened to her. The terrible events that were unfolding were the best Tasha would get, and she would have to endure it.

Suddenly, something zipped towards Gene. Tasha couldn't tell what it was, but it clearly did something since she saw Gene drop the gun and scream in pain. Blood was dripping from his hand and Tasha could see something sticking out of his hand; it looked like a throwing star. Ron had not loosened his grip at all as he started to look around, wondering who threw the star at his companion. He got his answer when a figure dropped from the sky and landed on top of Gene, punching the goon over and over. Then, something long and sharp extended from the mystery figure's wrist and vanished into the thug's throat before zipping back out in a geyser of blood. The figure dropped Gene's body and turned towards Ron and his captive.

Throughout the short seconds that Tasha had seen this figure, she had thought that they had been Gotham's most iconic celebrity: Batman, though with a slightly different outfit. Now, as the figure was facing her, she could see that this was not Batman at all. While Batman had straight, long, pointed ears on the top of his head and two eyeholes and a mouth hole (at least, that's what she could gather from some media photos), this figure had short, curved ears that almost looked like wings on it's face. The wing-ears were attached to a set of what looked like goggles and an apparent small beak where a nose would be. Black and copper were the main colors of this figure, and Tasha had to admit that this costume was indeed dazzling. And finally, the main giveaway that told her this wasn't Batman was the lack of the famous "Bat-symbol" on their chest. In fact, this person didn't resemble a bat at all. If anything, this person looked more like...

"Who the hell are you, freak? You one of Batman's little minions?" Ron asked in a frightened tone that was poorly covered by anger. The figure did not respond to the thug and instead walked forward towards the two. Ron was tightening his grip on the girl, but the figure did not stop. Realizing that tightening his grip wasn't halting the mystery person, he suddenly let go of Tasha and dashed towards the figure.

Tasha fell to the ground and got a perfect view of one of the most brutal yet most justified things in her entire life; she saw the figure block Ron's punch before twisting the thug's arm so much that it was most likely broken. A loud crack and a scream from Ron confirmed this as the figure punched him twice in the face and then socked him in the gut. He fell to his knees and tried to groan from the pain in his stomach and his face, but that pain soon got replaced after the figure jabbed their elbow into his back and punched along his spine. Ron was yowling now, trying to form words that would beg the figure beating him to stop. Tasha almost felt pity for the man. Almost.

The figure lifted Ron onto his feet and held him steady before punching him in the face again. Another punch came and Ron fell back against the wall from the force of the impact, crying tears and choking blood as the figure stomped over to continue their assault. As he was sinking to the ground, the figure delivered a strong kick to his chest and raised him back up before punching him in the throat. Every part of Ron hurt with the wind getting knocked out of him from the kick and it not being able to get back in from the throat punch, and he knew that it would only get worse.

Tasha saw the figure spin her kidnapper around so he was facing the brick wall of the alley. The figure slammed his head into the wall once, which caused Ron's vision to become spotted and glazed while his nose and mouth were gushing blood, staining the thug's face. The figure moved his head slightly so that he was now facing the sharp corner of the wall. With one mighty motion, the figure slammed Ron's head into the corner. Tasha closed her eyes and turned away from the gruesome sight, only hearing loud cracking noises and what could only be described as a rock falling on a pile of meat. When the noises finally stopped, she dared a glance to see what happened to the awful man that had planned to do some of the most terrible things to her.

The sight almost made her vomit; to say Ron's head was split open was an understatement. If there was any trace of his face left, it was not noticeable. Blood, brain matter and bits of Ron's skull stained the corner of the alley and the ground where his body now lay. The rain was still coming down, but the blood was still gushing from the bodies of both thugs. Tasha stood up and ran back towards her parents, who were also in shock at what they had just seen, and hugged them tightly. Her parents were lightly sobbing and petting her head, relieved that their daughter was safe and back in their arms.

Tasha turned back to see the figure aiming some sort of device at the tops of the building. A thin line shot out from the device and the figure shot off after it, zipping towards the rooftops. The figure reached the top and crouched on the building ledge, looking down at the family for a brief second before running off across the building.

"An owl," muttered Tasha. Her parents looked at her, confused.

"What's that, dear?" asked Alice, still looking up at the ledge like she was expecting the mysterious figure to reappear and gaze at them again.

"That person. They looked like an owl."


	2. Someone New

The alleyway was filled with bright flashes from the cameras surrounding the gruesome scene. Several police cars were parked on the street and sidewalk, their red and blue lights illuminating the brick walls. Police officers were all over the place, either keeping curious pedestrians away or spreading caution tape across the crime scene.

"Jesus Christ," muttered Commissioner Gordon as he hovered over the body of what once was a man, but was now a limp body with half of it's head decorating the wall and ground. "What kind of sick bastard made this mess?"

"According to the victims' statements, some ninja assassin freak that apparently came out of nowhere," responded an officer behind Gordon. "And the female minor said that the assassin looked like an owl. So that's what we need to be looking out for." The cop let out a little chuckle, and Gordon could see why; how often does a police department get a report of an owl-like assassin jumping around the city killing muggers and rapists? Then again, this was Gotham City. An owl assassin would be on the lower part of Gotham's abnormalities. After all, they had a crazy clown, a crocodile man, and a madman that is obsessed with making people scared of the dark.

"Jim," a voice called from behind the Commissioner. Jim turned around and saw Gotham City's most famous icon walking towards him as the cops moved out of the way.

"Batman," greeted Gordon. The Dark Knight stood next to the cop, looking down at the dead body. "They wanted to move the body, but I told them to wait until you arrived and did your detective work."

"Thanks," grunted Batman as he knelt down to scan the body. From what he could gather, the Caped Crusader could simulate exactly what had happened two hours ago to the thugs that laid dead on the ground: appear, disarm, kill, disappear. The assassin was simple in their mission, and good at it. "Is there a description of the assailant?"

"Just that he looks like an owl," replied Commissioner Gordon. "He headed that way." Jim pointed up.

The Dark Knight looked up at the roof the simulation assassin now stood upon and aimed his grappling hook to follow the trail, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Before you go, you should probably look at this," said Commissioner Gordon as he showed Batman a plastic evidence bag. Inside of it, a slightly bloody throwing star sat. Batman took the bag from Gordon and looked at it closely, seeing something in the middle of the star. Forgetting to ask the Commissioner if it was okay, he took it out of the evidence bag and held up a strange device to the center. The device made a small sound and let out a light blue glow before he put it back in his belt and he put the star back in the bag.

Holding out his arm to activate his communication device, Batman looked down. "Jim, could you-" He didn't even have to finish his request before Gordon gave his cops the hand signal to scram before he cleared out himself. The communication device was activated and the image of an older, distinguished man appeared.

"Alfred, I have something I need you to examine. I'm sending the scan now," said Batman as he pressed more buttons on his wrist.

"Of course, sir," responded the old man. "Looks like an average throwing star to me, sir. Oh wait, I see the markings. Well, this is peculiar."

"What's peculiar, Alfred?" asked Batman.

"These markings, sir," responded Alfred. "They haven't appeared on record before. Not with any known crime organization or guild anywhere, even Ra's al Ghul's League of Assassins."

"So whoever did this is someone new in town," said Batman. "Send a message to the others to keep a look out. I'm going to follow the trail and see if I can track down this mysterious assassin."

"Good luck sir," said the old man.

"Thanks, Alfred," replied Batman. The communication was cut as Batman once again aimed his grappling hook at the rooftop. With the zip of the grapple, Batman was off and gone. The cops returned to the scene with large bags and gurneys, Gordon leading them.

"Alright, guys. Let's clean this mess up," he said as he looked down at the thug with the slit throat. "And get these sons of bitches outta here."

* * *

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Katie reached down into her purse and pulled out her phone. Without bothering to read the caller ID, she pressed the green button to accept the call.

"Hello?"

"Hey!" The voice on the other line said in a cheery tone.

"Oh hey!" Katie replied in an equally cheery tone. "What's up?"

"Just wondering where you are and when you're going to get home. Dinner's getting cold."

"You made dinner? How come?"

"Well, we both work our asses off, you especially, and I figured we both could use a nice meal. But, you'd better hurry up or else I'm gonna eat it before it gets completely frozen."

"You won't have to," said Katie as she reached the door of her apartment and pulled out her keys. She unlocked her door, opened it and was greeted to the tasty smell of fried pork.

"Welcome home," called the phone voice from the dining area. She walked into the area and saw her small table was set with someone sitting in one of the chairs. The person stood up and walked over to Katie before pulling her into a casual hug.

"Hey Dylan," said Katie as she hugged him back. They let go of each other and sat down across from each other. She sat her bag down on the floor and pulled out a folder to place on the table.

"Hey, what's that? Are you seriously getting homework from that place?" Dylan asked. Katie rolled her eyes and opened the folder.

"Haven't you ever had to take work home with you?" she retorted.

"Um, no. My field of work doesn't require that, and neither should yours. Can't you do that after dinner?" he asked.

Katie sighed, knowing she was missing out on some very valuable thinking time that would most likely affect her at work the next day. However, it was nice to have these moments with Dylan, and her rumbling stomach was also leaning towards the food rather than work. "You're right, you're right. Let's eat." She put her napkin in her lap, gathered her silverware, and began to eat. Time passed and eventually the dishes were stacked in the sink, the table was cleared, the television was on, the two residents of the apartment were sitting on the couch laughing at the sitcom on the flat-screen, and the folder from Katie's bag was still sitting on the table.

On the folder in bright bold print, the word CLASSIFIED was stamped. The logo of the world's most famous looney bin, Arkham Asylum, sat in the top left corner of the folder, stating that the contents inside belonged to them and them alone. A label was pressed across the tab in small lettering reading a name that sounded somewhat normal and plain, but the alias behind that name struck fear into all the weak souls of Gotham City:

**T. Jones, Waylon.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still going strong with this! I know I can do better and I'm working on that, but I hope you're all enjoying this story so far and I hope you're all having a wonderful time of day or night! ^^


	3. Into the Asylum

The morning sky was a light shade of grey. The rain of yesterday had gone, but the gloom would remain in the sky until the next storm came. Katie had looked up at the sky this morning as she left for work and had thought it a simple yet beautiful sight, almost one that would be nice to paint. She could picture it now: the sky would be a nice background that could merge into a portrait of herself, combining with her own grey-blue eyes. It would be surrounded by gusts of wind that would blow her painted hair like-

She was so distracted by her painting ideas that she almost didn't notice the guard gate and checkpoint in front of her. She quickly focused herself back on the road, held out her ID card to be scanned, and continued driving once she got the okay from the security team stationed at the gate. She was crossing the bridge to the Asylum now, seeing it become larger and clearer as she drove closer and closer. Her car passed several rows of dead trees, blending in with the atmosphere of the island. She saw a sign up ahead, one that she always saw while heading to work. It read that hitchhikers were most likely escaped patients and was meant to be taken seriously, but all the sign ever did was make Katie chuckle.

She was on Arkham grounds now. Security vehicles were placed over the entrance way like a perimeter with Arkham Security Staff standing at the giant entrance doors to the institution. Katie was always paranoid with the people on this island, but it wasn't the inmates that were harbored here that she feared; it was the staff. Always looking to go to war, she thought. She turned and drove her car towards a section of the building that seemed like the barracks of a military base. Just more fuel to her fearful fire, as Katie put it. Then again, she understood the precautions Arkham staff had made to ensure that no more incidents ever happened that involved inmates. Last thing Katie wanted to see was another famous outbreak orchestrated by one of Gotham's many fiends such as Joker or Two-Face or Scarecrow.

"Another day, another dilemma," she said to herself as she pulled into the parking garage. She drove on and on, passing all of the cars belonging to her co-workers and colleagues that had to endure the same hardships as her. Katie felt for her colleagues, cared for them, and had even admired them at one point. But now she wasn't exactly on the level of respecting them after what she had seen and encountered while working at the facility: talk from security about murder attempts on patients that could be passed off as defense, doctors administering the wrong type of medication to keep their patients mentally unstable so they could continue returning to the Asylum and thus giving said doctor more work and more money, and just watercooler chit chat about how these people were doomed to rot in the darkest pits of Hell.

"Fuckers," she muttered to herself. She wouldn't let herself stoop to their level and she held true to that by always having faith that every single inmate on Arkham Island could be cured, even her current patient. Speaking of, she had forgotten to look back over his file for events that happened after his last breakout to study his actions and establish some sort of connection. It was Dylan's fault for taking her attention away from it, but she couldn't be mad at him for that. After all, SHE was the one who forgot to look at the file after dinner.

_Ah well,_ she thought. _I can deal with it later._

She grabbed her bag and pulled out her ID card as she walked towards the large gaping maw of the parking garage that led to the Asylum. She walked up the steps to the doors, nodded her head in greeting at the brutish guards, placed her ID across the scanner, and waited. When the door opened, she walked inside and heard the door hiss shut. She was finally inside.

Another doctor was waiting for her as she walked through the giant entryway hall. The name on the doctor's ID tag read, 'Rigby, Denise. Psychiatrist. Clearance: 9.' Denise was one of Katie's work friends and had recently started waiting for Katie to enter the facility so the two could chat and gossip about their outside lives and whatnot.

"Hey Katie! Glad you're here, girlfriend!" Denise said excitedly. She had gotten very attached to Katie since they started conversing and would always become bubbly and giddy when her friend arrived, and it was a sweet sight to see.

"Of course I'm here, Denise," Katie replied. "I've never missed a day of work. You know this."

"Oh yeah," said Denise in remembrance. Katie had attended every day of work that was required of her, no matter the condition. There were a few instances that she had even shown up with a sever case of stomach flu and fever, but she had been sent home almost immediately by Warden Sharp himself on account of the illness spreading to patients and staff. While she had left after throwing up in the parking garage, she had still technically arrived for work.

"So what's the gossip for today?" asked Katie. It was tradition that the girls talk about the events of whatever had happened the night prior or the early morning since that was the only time anything interesting happened outside of their job.

"Well, I'm still searching for the perfect dress to wear for that fancy get-together party thing this weekend," replied Denise. Katie tilted her head slightly in confusion. "You know, for that dinner party or whatever. It's for Wayne Enterprises." Katie had heard about that event, but she hadn't shown much interest in it. Fancy parties and hoity toity events weren't exactly her thing, but she had heard that some of them were slightly enjoyable and were for good causes. "You are coming too, aren't you?" Denise asked.

"Nah. I don't enjoy those parties that much. They just aren't my thing, you know?" Katie responded. Denise rolled her eyes and shook her head. "What? What's the shaking and the eye-rolling for?"

"It's just that you never seem to get out there and experience stuff," said Denise. "I mean, would it kill you to go out and have a night on the town?"

"In Gotham City, possibly."

"Uh-huh," deadpanned Denise. Then, she suddenly perked up. "Oh, speaking of which, did you hear about that family that got saved by-" She was interrupted by a security man walking up to them both and grabbing Katie's arm.

"Dr. Rothman, you need to head to the cell. He's up and he's anxious to see you," said the man. Katie gave Denise an apologetic look before following the guard through the doors, deeper into the Asylum.

* * *

Croc was pacing back and forth across the room, growling in impatience and frustration. Why wasn't she here yet? She was always here, always ready to talk to him, always ready to make time for him.

"Where is she?!" he roared. The scent of fear filled the air as the guards standing outside jumped back in fright, calming Croc's anger slightly as he chuckled.

"Calm down, animal! Or else..." The guards had seemingly regained themselves and were making desperate attempts to intimidate him with their pathetic little shock collar.

"You can't control me, you pathetic meat bag! When I get out of here, I'll tear you-" The sudden sting that emitted from the shock collar around Croc's neck brought him to the ground as he grunted in pain. They didn't exactly hurt him, but they were enough to make him feel strained and numb. He calmed himself as she didn't exactly like it when he was bitchy about the guards, but it wasn't his fault. What morons thought that they could control him? Him, the mighty Killer Croc! His impatience returned and he stood back up to begin his pacing yet again wondering why she was taking so goddamn long.

The sound of high heels stomping on the ground captured his attention and made him stop his pacing. She had arrived.

"I'm here! I'm here!" He could hear her calling from outside the interrogation room, listening to her fiddle with her papers and other worthless doctor crap that he always found dumb. He crouched down, getting at head level with the chair across from himself since it was straining on her neck to always look up at him.

_Bout time, _he thought.

The door opened and then she walked in, but she wasn't alone. Four guards marched in, two of them grabbing the chain restraints attached to the wall while the other two had their guns trained on him. He growled at the guards with the chains when they reached for his large arms to hook them into his shackles. One of the guards lifted the remote to the shock collar in a threatening manner, letting him know not to try anything. A click and a metallic rattle later, the chains were in place.

Katie took out a small recording device and placed it on the table. She opened it up and placed a tape inside before pressing the 'record' button and sat down. The whirring of the machine meant it was on, and that meant they could begin.

"This is Doctor Katelyn Rothman, appointed psychiatrist of Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane. Once again, I am intervi-"

"Cut the formality crap, doctor. Just get on with your pointless questions," he interrupted.

"And that right there was my lovely patient, Waylon Jones," she said. He almost growled when she said his real name but he stopped himself when she called him lovely. Instead, he just gave her a look of slight annoyance. "Also known as Killer Croc." That was better. Killer Croc was a name of fear, domination, and power and he wanted her to know it.

"So Doc, whatcha got planned for us today, huh? Gonna continue droning on trying to pick apart my brain, or can we actually talk about something interesting?" asked Croc.

"Well, I... I do in fact find your brain interesting," she replied hesitantly. Rookie mistake to show fear in front of him. But did she seriously just say that she found his brain interesting? Good God, was she strange.

"Oh come on, Doc. Surely a nice thing like yourself has something more enticing to talk about," he said almost in a sultry tone. It sounded like he was purring at her. She seemed slightly uncomfortable at his slight advances, but she tried to not show it. It wasn't the first time he had made a remark like that, and yet the effect was always the same: her feeling slightly flustered and uncomfortable.

"Croc, please," she said. "That's a little inappropriate."

"A lot of things I do are inappropriate," he remarked.

To Katie, that sounded more like an innuendo rather than a reference to his cannibalistic crimes.

"O-oh I know," she stuttered before she regained herself. "Now, what exactly do you want to talk about that is so interesting?"

Croc smiled, or moved his mouth in his disfigured version of a smile. He licked his lips and sharp teeth before replying, "You."

Katie stammered before she closed her mouth. She didn't know how to respond. She didn't know how to think. This was not what she usually came up against when she interviewed him.

The way she saw it, she had two choices: she could shut him down and try breaking through the same scaly wall that he would put up when he closed himself off or she could let him express himself and she could be let in.

"And... why exactly do you find me interesting?" she asked. She couldn't help but notice that his yellow eyes seemed to brighten at her reaction.

"You seem to think that everyone can be helped," he explained. "That everyone can be cured of sickness by you. Somehow you always remain positive even when you're dealing with the most negative of people."

"Well, it's pointless to meet negative with negative. And I won't give up on people. I never have, never do, and never will."

"Even me?" he inquired.

"Even you," she replied firmly.

"Then let me ask you this: why are you different from the others?"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Why are you different from the other assholes that have sat me down and have asked me meaningless questions under the guise of helping me? Why is it that you care?"

"We all care," she lied.

It seemed that Croc could see through that and she knew he could. 

"No!" he growled. "No they don't! That bitch Whistler didn't, the other doctors didn't, these idiots don't" 

The guards aimed their weapons at Croc. His outburst had scared them, but his insult had fueled them. Fear and anger in the hands of these Arkham guards was not a good combination from Katie's perspective.

"Maybe the question isn't why you are different from everyone else," Croc said. "Maybe it's why they're different from you."

"I'm just like any other doctor here," Katie stated.

_The hell I am, _she thought. _He does have a point._

"I know you're not, Doc," he said. "You're special."

The way he said that made a jolt go through Katie's spine. It wasn't ominous or threatening. At least, not entirely. It was more like... affection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you that were wondering where Killer Croc was, here he is! Expect more of him, and the other villains of Gotham!


	4. Another Sighting

Katie sat her desk swirling the ranch around her salad with a fork. Normally, she would be scarfing the salad down and cleaning the plastic container out as the salad was made by Dylan, and it tasted divine. She had said on several occasions that Dylan could have been a chef at one of Gotham's finer restaurants, but he had shut that idea down as he found those places stuffy and his career already paid well. 

Instead, the salad sat there barely touched. Her mind was too focused on other issues to worry about food. 

_What was that all about? _she wondered as she thought back to the conversation she had with Croc. _Is that something to be concerned with? Maybe I should call Dylan and see what he thinks?_

She pulled her phone out of her desk and scrolled through her contacts until she found Dylan's number. She pressed his number and prepared to call him, but another thought suddenly cam to her mind: _Wouldn't I be violating doctor-patient confidentiality? _

Katie could not disclose what had happened in the session. For one reason, it was against her ethics and her contract which would cause her to be fired from Arkham Asylum. Another reason was that she was probably being paranoid. Maybe she was just reading Croc's signals wrong and was overreacting? She didn't know what to do: call Dylan and tell him everything or put her phone back in her desk drawer and move on.

She slid the drawer out, turned off her phoe, threw it back in the drawer, slid it shut, and continued eating her salad. Strangely, it didn't taste as good as it usually did.

* * *

Smooth, calming music was playing over the speakers as the old man sat at the large desk. A shiny glass of sherry was held in his hand as he twirled and swung a finger to the music like he was the conductor to an invisible orchestra. No vocals were in this piece, but the old man was okay with that. It felt nice to hear emotions being expressed by something other than words.

A knock at the door pulled the old man out of his musical trance. He let out a small groan and stood up from his desk and walked over to the stereo to stop the music.

"Come in," said the old man. The door to his office opened and another man walked in, looking down with a nervous expression.

"Don Falcone, something happened..." He trailed off as Falcone took a sip of his sherry.

"And?" Falcone asked.

"A-and I came to warn you," the man stuttered.

"Warn me about what?" Falcone asked as he put the sherry glass down.

"Well, our weapon sites have been taking hits and casualties have been increasing with every attack," said the man.

"Why was I not told about this?" Falcone asked. His tone was calm and composed, but anyone that knew Carmine Falcone knew that on the inside, a fire of rage was burning bright.

"W-well sir, um... t-the lieutenants have disappeared. The only way I found out was because I overheard conversation from some of Penguin's thugs talking about one of the sites being free for the taking." Falcone took another sip and then put his glass down, leaving it to sit idle.

"So Cobblepot and his goons are the ones that have been threatening my business, eh?" Falcone asked, his anger starting to seep from inside out onto his words.

"Actually, Penguin's thugs said that he had nothing to do with the sites. I heard that they suspect Black Mask," the man quickly said. Falcone raised an eyebrow at this, which made the nervous man almost piss himself. "They suspect he hired someone to take out the buildings and steal the weapons for himself."

"Sionis, you bastard," Falcone growled. Black Mask and the Falcone Crime Family had always been on rocky terms ever since Sionis expanded his criminal empire to be one of the top mobs in Gotham City, only being rivaled by Penguin and the Falcones themselves. "Find out who he hired and where he plans to hit next," Falcone ordered. The man bowed his head and began to head out the door, but stopped when Falcone held out his hand in a halting gesture. "And finally, figure out what happened to those lieutenants. Let's bring them home... no matter what."

Once the man was out the door and gone, Falcone let out a sigh. He hated it when his business, his pride and joy, his life's work was put into jeopardy because some hothead criminal with a gun has an unhealthy addiction to power. These criminals nowadays had no respect, no class, no honor, and it made him feel sick and embarrassed.

"What has Gotham come to?" muttered Falcone. Everything used to be so simple when it was just the Mob. They got what they wanted, took out what or they didn't want and no one would cause them any problems. Then everything became complicated when Batman showed up, followed soon after by Joker, Two-Face, Scarecrow, and every other piece of scum that ruined Falcone's business.

A thud from the other side of the door drew Falcone's attention from his thoughts. The man from before had knocked and entered, but the noise he just heard wasn't a knock; it was more of a thump, and a loud one at that. He went to the door and put his ear up against it to see what the man was doing outside, but he heard no expected sounds from the other side. All he heard was what sounded like a leaking pipe going 'drip' on a cold floor.

'What is going on here?' Falcone thought to himself. He knew he should have heard other noises outside the office, and the silence was killing him. Deciding to ease his tensions, he opened the door... and stepped back in horror at the grizzly sight before him. The body that was now lying on the floor was the man that had just left his office but he now had a new a gaping wound from his lower back to upper chest that was erupting with blood. The guards outside his office had some sharp objects sticking out of their eyes, most likely throwing stars based on the memory of the arsenals belonging to some of the assassins he had hired a long time ago. The bartender had his throat cut open with the bloody, broken bottle that was used to cause the damage hanging off a chunk of neck skin.

"W-what the..." Falcone stuttered as he backed into his office. He could see no one else out there, meaning that the culprit had gotten away. But then, another thought entered his mind: 'What if the culprit comes back?' If they did, then Falcone would be alone with no security, no protection. What was he to do? Then he remembered the gun that he kept under the desk. If he could grab it and find a good place to hide, then-

"Carmine Falcone," said a voice from behind him. Falcone turned suddenly and saw a mysterious figure standing on his desk holding a sword coated in blood; this was the culprit of the carnage outside. "For the crimes you have committed against the people of Gotham City..." The figure raised their sword and aimed it at Falcone's chest. "You have been sentenced to death!" The last thing Carmine Falcone saw was a mask of armor lunging at him. But something stuck with him in his final moment of life that seemed peculiar and intriguing: the mask was shaped like the head of an owl.


	5. Court is in Session

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know these chapters have been poorly written, but I want to thank all of you for sticking with this story!

Batman kept observing the brutality and dead bodies that laid around. The carnage before him was indeed brutal, but nothing he couldn't handle.

"Batman, do you have anything yet?" Commissioner Gordon asked over the comms unit.

"Yes," Batman replied. "And what I found isn't good."

"When is it ever?"

* * *

Batman stepped back outside to meet Jim Gordon. News vehicles were everywhere with their passengers swarming the police tape to see what was happening. Reporters and journalists were herded around cops standing guard asking what had happened or who was the culprit in the murder of one of Gotham City's most notorious crime bosses.

"What did you find?" asked Gordon. Batman held up four throwing stars in response.

"There are five bodies inside," said Batman, confirming Gordon's observations. "And one of them is Carmine Falcone."

"Now that's bold," said Gordon. "Not many people would go after the head of the Falcone Crime Family. At least, not many that value their life."

"Look closely at the throwing stars," Batman said as he held the stars close to Gordon's face. There was something familiar about these weapons...

"They're the same type of throwing stars that were at the alleyway crime scene," Batman explained. "Same metal, same insignia, same usage."

"Does that mean we have a new assassin in town?" asked Gordon.

"Knowing our luck, yes," replied Batman. "And I'll make sure they end up like the rest."

* * *

"Shock grips Gotham tonight as the body of elusive crime boss Carmine Falcone was discovered with several others. According to information released by Commissioner James Gordon and other officers of the Gotham City Police Department, all of the bodies found at the scene were in morbid states of dismemberment and/or disfigurement," said Gotham City's famous reporter, Vicki Vale. She stood outside the Police Department, just in front of the entrance steps. A podium with microphones was set up, yet it was deserted. A press conference had most likely just been held.

"Along with the remains of Falcone and his associates, a duffle bag containing the heads of several escapees from Arkham Asylum was seized by the GCPD. While the identities of the headless- or, technically bodiless- victims have not been revealed, it is believed that these escapees were a part of the minor breakout at Arkham last mon-"

Vicki and the news broadcast were suddenly cut off, replaced by the still image of the insignia that had burrowed itself into the minds of Gotham's law enforcement and it's dark defender. The mark appeared on every screen, large and small, throughout the grand chamber. It stared down at everyone in the room, it's features reflected by the white masks of the people everywhere. In theater boxes above, in chairs aligned below, the figures watched the stage before them.

Another figure, a cloaked one, stepped out onto the stage. This figure was different from those in the audience; while their masks were the white of freshly fallen snow, the mask of the cloaked one had the silver color of a sword. The black, blank eyes of the white-masked figures stared up at the orange glowing ones of the cloaked silver mask, acknowledging each other. The cloaked figure spread his arms, as if welcoming someone home. Then, he snapped his fingers.

A sudden thud spread across the audience as a new figure entered the fray, landing on the stage. This one was clad in black and bronze, a knight in his ominous armor. A sword sheathed across his back, his stars lay waiting in his belt, his blades ready to spring to life from his gauntlet, he stared at the cloaked man with his own disguise. Unlike the silver and white masks of the people before him, the man in black had an entire helmet to hide his features. The eyes of the helmet were voids of mystery thanks to the goggles, and a tiny gilded beak was placed where the nose was. Where the ears lay, wings of copper stood in frozen flight. He walked towards the cloaked man before crossing his arms in front of his chest, his fingers mimicking a predator reaching it's claws to strike- a salute.

As the armored man turned and stood at attention besides the cloaked man, another thud hit the stage. And another. And another. And another. One by one, more warriors dropped onto the stage. They all stepped towards the cloaked man, all gave the same salute, all stood in the same formation before the crowd. There were nine in total before them all, nine warriors that stood with the cloaked man. When said cloaked man gave a salute of his own, everyone else gave one back. And with that, it begun: the Court of Owls was in session.

"Brothers, sisters, members of the Court," said the cloaked figure. "Welcome. Tonight, we are here to rejoice and regroup. Our plan is still in motion, our mission still succeeding. I would like to thank our enforcers, our wills, our Talons for carrying out the justice that our city needs." The Court members began to clap while the Talons only gave small bows of their heads. "Now I ask of you, Talons, can you perform the next step? Can you give the big push that we so desperately need?"

"**Yes, Grandmaster**," replied one voice. It was all of the Talons answering as one, their voices filtered and changed by their suits to match each other, to become each other.

"Then it shall be done. Tomorrow night at the Wayne party, be sure all the pieces get put in place."

* * *

The session was over. The orders were given. The session was concluded.

Talon stood in his room, the emblem of his people staring down at him. The gold room was truly elegant and beautiful, matched only by the supply of weapons and gadgets mounted on the wall. The naked armor stand stared back at him, wanting him to take off the suit so it could be hidden like him.

A sudden electronic jingle brought him out of his statue staring contest; it was his phone. He reached for his goggles and moved them to hang around his neck. Next, he reached for his winged ears. A click and hiss later, his mask was off. Now that his voice was undisguised, he reached for the phone and started the call.

"Hello?"

"Hey Dylan. It's me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be honest, how many of you saw that coming?


	6. Guardian

"Oh hey Katie. What's up?" asked Dylan.

"Just wondering where you are. Stuck at work?" She must have gotten home earlier than usual. He had to think of something quick.

"No. I was just discussing something with Mister Wayne. You know, about that little party he's hosting tomorrow," he replied.

"Doesn't that mean you ARE stuck at work?" Katie quipped. "And I thought the party was this weekend?"

"No, Mister Wayne planned it for tomorrow. Where did you hear that?" Dylan asked. It wasn't like Katie to know about public events, especially ones like what Mister Wayne to put together.

"Girl from work was telling me about it," she replied. "Guess I've gotta tell her that the date was wrong."

"Wait a minute, why were you two talking about the party? Are you interested in going?"

"No! You know those aren't my thing," she said. That was true; she never felt comfortable at events like that, and Dylan couldn't blame her to be perfectly honest. The only time when he went to fancy parties and black-tie social gatherings was when his job demanded it. Any other time he was offered, he politely declined.

"Yeah yeah. I know," replied Dylan. "But it would be a really good thing if you would come with me."

"I know, Dylan, but I just don't like going to those things. They're just so... so..." It seemed that Katie could not find the right word to describe parties, but Dylan had one.

"Uncharacteristic for you?" he suggested.

"Huh. Never thought of that one. Normally, I would just call it 'uncomfortable' but that one's unique. Thanks, Dylan," she said.

"No problem!" Dylan said with a smile. "I'll be home in a few minutes. Bye."

The call ended and Dylan put his phone down. Dylan raised his arm and pressed a button on his gauntlet, opening a drawer with a pair of clothes inside. It was time to get out of his work uniform.

* * *

A plain grey t-shirt, a leather jacket, black denim jeans, and dress boots; that's what Dylan saw on his reflection's body.

"Ready to go," he said as he turned away from the mirror and headed towards the exit. The door slid up into the ceiling, revealing a staircase that led upward to another door. Dylan walked up the stairs and opened the door into the darkness before him. A strong gust of wind blew in his face as he went through the door into the streets of Gotham. As he walked out into the night, the door behind him slammed shut. Everything was secure.

A jingle began to go off in his jacket pocket, somewhat startling him. He pulled the phone out of his pocket and read the caller ID: Mister Wayne. Dylan quickly pressed the 'Accept' button and held the phone up to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Hi Dylan. It's me," the voice on the other line responded.

"Oh hey Mister Wayne. What can I do for you?" asked Dylan.

"Just wanted to remind you about the little party I'm hosting tomorrow. I know you said you'd be there but I just want to confirm your attending."

"Don't worry, Mister Wayne. I didn't forget. Of course I'll be there," Dylan replied.

"Wonderful. Now, is there going to be someone joining you tomorrow? Perhap-"

"I already asked Katie and she declined," Dylan interjected. "But it has nothing to do with you, sir! It's just that parties and whatnot aren't exactly her thing." Dylan moved the phone away from his mouth to let out a quick 'phew.' He knew that Mister Wayne was a nice guy, but he was also powerful. To insult a man like Wayne, however accidentally, would not look good in his future.

"Dylan, Dylan. It's alright! I know that she meant no offense," chuckled Wayne. Dylan let out another 'phew' except it was next to the phone. "Well, thank you for your time and I will see you tomorrow. Bye Dylan."

"Goodbye Mister Wayne," said Dylan as he hung up the phone. Just before he could put the phone back in his pocket, a noise like a siren started going off. He looked back at his phone and saw that an alert had come up, giving it and exclamation mark as a sign of importance.

_ **Gotham-spread Alert. Arkham Asylum patients loose. Escapees include Scarecrow, Zsasz, Riddler, Two-Face, Killer Croc, and the Joker. Residents advised to stay in homes and stay alert.** _

"Oh no," muttered Dylan. He looked back to the direction he had come from, then he looked to the direction the apartment was in. Then back. Then forward. Then back. Then forward. Then he turned around and ran back the way he came.

* * *

Katie sat on the couch staring at the file. The small photo of the reptilian brute stared back at her with intensity and rage. Yep, that was Killer Croc alright. He was intimidating, but he had lost his title of 'frightening' to Katie after all of their time together. Now he was just a patient for her, no more misguided than the rest of the loonies in Arkham. And yet, his behavior towards her had changed in recent months to something unexpected. She wasn't entirely sure and was probably misreading some signals, something she mentally kicked herself for, but it almost seemed like Croc was trying to display some sort of flattery...

"No, it can't be that," she muttered. Croc had never shown any type of affection to any of his previous doctors or anyone else in general, so why should she be any different? But she just couldn't get the thought out of her head. Grabbing her pen, she made a little mark on her note page: _possible transference._

"Oh god, what am I doing?" she wondered out loud. There was no way, NO WAY that Waylon Jones, the Killer Croc was falling for her. It wasn't true. It couldn't be true. After everything that happened, it just couldn't be true.

* * *

Katie hung up the phone and walked back to the elevator. She pressed the designated floor button and let the machine do the rest. She stared at the screen hanging on the wall, watching the Arkham logo twirl in place over and over. Suddenly, the annoying little jingle that Katie despised with every fiber of her being came over the intercom.

"Doctor Rothman, please report to Intensive Treatment. Repeat, Doctor Rothman to Intensive Treatment."

"Oh shit," she said. Why would she be needed in Intensive Treatment? Unless...

Croc roared and snapped at the guards surrounding him. The cattle prods jabbed at his arms and collar, sending shock after shock after painful shock through his body. For some reason unknown to him, the dumbasses didn't bother activating his collar. But just as well. Now he had fewer distractions that would slow his process of eating these fools, at least when they stopped poking him with their sticks.

"Damn! Why won't this thing work?" yelled one of the guards as he frantically pressed a button on a remote while dodging Croc's claws. Now Croc understood; their pathetic collar wasn't working. Perfect.

"Activate the collar! Activate the collar!" Another guard screamed as Croc pulled at the shackles, causing them to snap.

"I'm trying! It won't work!" The first guard responded. More shocks from the cattle prods came, but Croc was too determined to let those stand in his way.

"Alert! Category-9 patient escape in Intensive Treatment! Shoot-to-kill permissions authorized!" The intercom droned over Croc. Great. Now other assholes would be on their way, and they would most likely bring guns. Another shock to his neck from the cattle prod activated the collar, sending pain throughout his body. The pain was soon replaced by rage, giving Croc the strength he needed to whirl around and smack every single guard away from him. One particular guard began to sob and crawl away from the reptile but only succeeded in drawing his attention.

"Tick tock. Feed the Croc," he growled. A gunshot and something hitting the back of his head drew Croc away from his prey. The reinforcements had come and who should be leading them but that piece-of-shit Cash. Croc roared in their direction and charged. More shots were fired. Some hit, some missed, but Croc still ran at the guards.

"Fix the damn remote!" Cash yelled.

"I'm trying!" replied the guard as he frantically smacked the remote. Unfortunately for them, the signal light on the remote that told whether or not a shock collar worked was still red. Croc was getting closer, closer, closer...

"CROC, STOP!" He looked up at saw her running towards the chaos.

"Doctor Rothman, don't get near him!" Cash yelled.

"You shouldn't have come here, Doc," growled Croc. "Now I have your scent." Croc rushed towards the group of people and reached out for someone, no one in particular. Honestly, if he could grab anyone and rip into their flesh it would be nice. Well, everyone's flesh except for hers. He wanted to keep her, savor her for a long, long-

A sudden shock from his collar brought him down to his knees. Seemed like the remote was working again. Ah well. All Croc had to do was wait a couple of seconds for the guards to power off the collar and then he could go back to tearing them apart, but the shockwaves weren't going away. In fact, more and more shocks came from the collar. What used to be a strange tickling sensation was now an agonizing sting, bringing Croc to the ground as he thrashed and wiggled in pain. He roared and yelled and growled for the pain to stop but it wouldn't. Why wouldn't the pain go away? Was the remote malfunctioning again? No. It was the guards holding down the activation button so the pain could last longer. Fucking bastards.

"Stop! Please stop! You're hurting him! Stop it!" Katie yelled as she tried to wrestle the remote out the guard's hand. The others held her back while Cash just stood there, looking down at the convulsing reptilian man.

"This animal deserves pain!" replied the guard holding the remote. The look on the guard's face was sickening; he had a wild look in his eyes, his grip was firm on the activation button, and his grin was wicked and malicious.

"I said..." Katie pushed past the guards holding her back and punched the guard holding the remote right in the mouth, causing him to drop said remote. "STOP!" The guard groaned in pain on the floor, similar to the inmate a few feet away from him. The other guards gave her questioning and somewhat angry looks (sans Cash), but she paid them no mind. She slowly stepped towards Croc, careful not to startle him. His head was down and his arms were the only thing keeping him from flopping on the floor.

"Doctor, it's not a good idea to-" Cash began.

"Mr. Cash, this is MY patient. I am his doctor. I need to make sure he heals, so stop lecturing me on how to do my job and focus on yours," she interjected. Croc made a noise that sounded like a quiet chuckle, causing all eyes to go back on him. Suddenly, his head shot up and Katie's face was suddenly met with his tongue. It was wet and rough, dragging slowly up her face until it reached her forehead before it retreated back into his mouth. Katie's face had a petrified look on it, perfectly accompanied by a trail of saliva.

"You taste good, Doc," Croc remarked with what could be best described as a sultry grin.

"Move along, fucker!" Cash barked. Instead of rebelling or growling at the guard, the reptilian man simply turned and walked down the hall to the elevator. While the other guards followed Croc, Cash stayed behind with Katie. "Are you alright, Doctor Rothman?"

Ignoring his question, Katie asked, "Why was I asked down here in the first place?"

"Well, we know that you have made the most progress with him and that he's the calmest when you're around, so we figured that it would be best to get him under control if you found a way to talk him down," he explained. "But that clearly didn't work. I'm gonna have to talk to the Warden about the remote not working. That thing should be top of the line!"

"Well, it clearly wasn't. But whether it works or not isn't the point, Cash. That dumbass holding the remote should have let go of the button!" Katie retorted.

"I agree, but did you really have to punch him in the mouth?" asked Cash. Katie responded by giving him a glare that read 'yes', answering the guard's question. "Right. Sorry."

"If you'll excuse me, Cash, I need to wash my face off," said Katie as she walked away to one of the staff restrooms. Cash looked at her with a look of concern before turning and going the same way Croc had gone moments ago.


	7. Investigation and Pursuit

The apartment was quiet. Not completely silent, but quiet. The only sounds that filled the room were the rustling of blankets, the whirring of the heater, and the light snoring of the young woman bundled up on the couch. Deep in her slumber, she couldn't hear the sound of the siren going off on her phone nor the buzz of a text message. Before the screen went dark, the message was proudly displayed on her phone.

"_**Katie**_," it read. "_**Lock the door and bolt it. Let me know when you get this. I'll be home in a few minutes**_."

* * *

The dark figure stood on the rooftop looking at the city below. Police sirens went off, people shouted, and a bright light was shone into the sky: the Batsignal.

"Thought you went home," said a voice behind the dark figure.

"Had to make sure someone was out here," the Talon replied as an identical figure walked up next to him. "I know this is a big opportunity for us."

"Do you have their locations?" asked the other Talon.

"No confirmed ones, but there has been some talk that Two-Face may be heading to the Iceberg Lounge to talk business with Penguin," said the first. "Zsasz, Riddler, and Scarecrow will be the hardest to find. Joker and Croc, however, will be easy."

"How nice that the scariest-looking are the easiest to find," the second remarked.

"But finding them isn't going to be the hard part," said the first.

"What is it? Getting rid of them?"

"No," the first replied before he pointed at the Batsignal in the sky. "He is."

* * *

Batman zipped and glided through the tall Gotham buildings, looking around to find any clues as to where the escapees might be. Joker was always tricky, but not exactly cunning enough to elude the World's Greatest Detective. He was most likely in some abandoned amusement park or a trashy circus or even a toy store. If it was something that was once humorous but was now a dark pit full of memories, chaos, and pain, then it was a magnet for the Joker.

"Oracle," Batman said into his earpiece once he had stopped on a ledge. "Give me the locations of anything Joker-related: circuses, amusement parks, even some of his old hangouts. I'll check them out later tonight. It might help me find him."

"Alright, but be careful. Since that whole Titan incident, I think you're the first person Joker would like to see, and not in a good way," said Oracle. The blinking on Batman's gauntlet showed that the destinations had come through to his map. It was true. Ever since Batman had endured and stopped Joker's Titan plan, the Clown Prince of Crime had been strangely dormant. At first, it was believed to be his healing process after his body transformed back from the monstrous brute that had plagued Gotham's news stations that faithful night, but now Batman wasn't so sure. Perhaps Joker was seeking revenge on the Dark Knight for yet another plan ruined. Wouldn't be the first time.

"Anything else?" Oracle asked. Now was the time to search for the rest of the criminals. Perhaps Nigma, but who knew how long that would take? Those that could deal serious damage immediately after breaking out of Arkham Asylum were Zsasz and Croc, so they were at the top of the list.

"Show me any locations that were previously inhabited by Victor Zsasz or Killer Croc. I'm finding them first," said Batman as he readied his cape. "And keep me updated if anything else happens."

"Of course."

* * *

"All units, we have a 902 near the theater! Repeat, stabbing near the Gotham Theater! Suspect appears to be Victor Zsasz!" The police scanners were going crazy with responses, but the owl-like warriors tuned them out. They had what they needed. One nodded to the other and dropped from his hiding place on the ledge while his partner aimed his grappler and zipped away into the distance.

"I'm coming for you, Zsasz," the Talon muttered. "And I will find you."

"Suspect is heading for the ACE Chemicals plant!" Talon looked up and saw the glowing green letters that read 'ACE' on top of the tall building only a couple of blocks away. Perfect.

A dark shape passed over the Talon's head. Looking up, he could see that something was flying- no, gliding- above him towards the plant. The figure went by so quick, but a fast look at the pointed head and dark cape told the owl warrior that this was Batman. How could the Bat have gotten there so quickly? Did he glide the whole way? Did the Bat have some unknown powers that no one ever knew about? Whatever the reason, Talon could tell that everything would be ruined if Batman managed to get his hands on Zsasz before the plan was complete. Aiming the grappling gun, Talon launched forward in an indirect race with the Dark Knight to the chemical plant.

Police sirens were getting closer, and so was Zsasz. As the Talon ran, he pressed a button on his gauntlet. Suddenly, his entire field of vision changed. The dark streets were now highlighted in gold and everything was crystal clear. Hunter Vision was activated.

Aiming the grappler yet again, he launched further towards the plant. He looked up and saw the outline of a person flying in the air: Batman. In the back of Talon's mind, he thought it slightly funny that the ears and cape on the Bat were still visible while nothing else was. Talon looked toward the plant and saw the hazy outline of something else approaching from the plant. Closer and closer the figure approached and closer and closer Talon came to meet him.

The outline began to become more defined until it morphed into the shape of a person, and said person had something sharp in his hand. That was definitely Zsasz. Talon looked up once more to see where the Bat had gone, but was shocked to see that nothing was in the sky. Perhaps he fell? Perhaps something had hit him? As long as he was gone, everything was fine.

Zsasz kept running between the buildings, getting closer to the Talon. While the owl desperately wanted to jump into action then and there, Zsasz was not trapped... yet. Firing his grappler yet again, Talon zipped up to a nearby rooftop and waited. If Zsasz was on the path he expected, then the murderer would run past the rooftop he was on down a long alley and be met with a locked gate. That would be the perfect opportunity to strike.

"So far, so good," the Talon whispered. Zsasz kept running closer and closer to the alley. Closer, closer, closer...

He ran down the alleyway. Zsasz was finally trapped.

A dark blur whooshed down past Talon into the alley with Zsasz; it was Batman on the gate side of the alley. No, no, no! Everything was going so wrong for the Talon. He had to fix this quickly.

"Your escape ends here, Zsasz," growled Batman as he approached the scarred man.

"Ah, the Bat has come. Have you come to let me engrave your legacy of failure on my flesh, or have you come to lock me back in stone?" Zsasz asked as he slowly backed away. The exit out of the alley was just behind him. If he could just-

A thud from behind told him to turn around. Another dark figure stood in the alley, this one different from the Bat. While the Bat's cowl left some of his flesh present, this face was hidden. Where there was a cape on Batman, a long sword hung from the back of this new figure. The features of this new figure looked somewhat avian, somewhat like an owl.

"He is going to do neither!" Talon declared as he extended his wrist blades. "I am going to do what must be done, Zsasz, and put you down!"

"Who are you?" Batman barked as he reached for his utility belt. The Talon ignored his question and began to stalk towards Zsasz, wrist blades at the ready. Zsasz had his own weapon ready, but it would be no use. If he made a move, it would be instantly countered and he would end up dead.

"Victor Zsasz, for the crimes you have committed against the people of Gotham City and the mass amount of lives you have taken, I hereby sentence you to death!" Talon lunged at Zsasz, his wrist blades so close to connecting with flesh...

A metallic clang filled the alley. Something solid met the blades, deflecting them from Zsasz.

"I'll ask again," growled Batman as he shoved the assassin's blades away from himself and the killer. "Who are you?"

"The hero you couldn't be," the Talon angrily responded before leaping at both men. He swiped at Batman, twirling and flipping to reach the Dark Knight. Batman stepped back and back before he heard footsteps rapidly approaching from behind. He ducked his head to his left just as Zsasz stabbed the area where the back of his neck had been just milliseconds earlier. He kicked the assassin away and grabbed Zsasz's arm and threw him onto the ground, but Batman quickly realized his mistake: he had put Zsasz within the assassin's reach.

Suddenly, a sharp pain flooded through Batman's stomach. He looked down and saw two throwing stars sticking out of his body. Had the assassin been that fast to get him with those? Distracted momentarily by his pain, Batman gave the assassin the opportunity to strike. He snatched Zsasz off the ground, punched him across the jaw, and grabbed him in a headlock.

Batman regained himself and was horrified to see the assassin holding Zsasz with one arm while the other reached for his throat with the other, and the other had a blade extended. He could see that Zsasz didn't seem scared or angry or sad that his life would end. In fact, he seemed calm and willing, almost seeming like he wanted it to happen.

"No! Don't!" Batman yelled as he reached out for the them, but he was too late. With a quick flash of metal and a gurgling choking sound, the Talon cut open Zsasz's neck. Blood sprayed everywhere, splashing onto Batman and the ground. The Talon dropped Zsasz's body to the ground, his job completed. He watched the crimson puddle form around Zsasz's head with grim satisfaction. One down, an entire city left to go.

"I think he went down here!" A voice yelled from the distance. Red and blue lights began to illuminate the area as police cars and officers arrived. Batman took one last look at the owl-like assassin before him, glaring at him. Then, the figure looked up and aimed his grappling gun before he zipped away into the sky, out of sight.

Several cops began to form a crowd around the alleyway, aiming flashlights at the bloody Batman and dead Zsasz. One man pushed his way through the crowd and began to walk down the alley before stopping in his tracks.

"Batman, what happened?" asked Commissioner Gordon. Batman didn't reply. He only groaned in pain and yanked the two throwing stars out of his stomach. Even though they were half-covered in his blood, Batman could still make out the emblem etched into those stars that matched several others he had encountered over the past few days: the face of an owl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well how bout that, huh? Was anyone thinking that Zsasz would die so early in the story? Was anyone thinking Zsasz would die at all? Does anyone even read these? Stay tuned!


	8. Assassins in Town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where stuff gets weird in a sexual nature, guys. Fair warning

"Oooh! Shake it, love! Shake it!" Cobblepot cheered as the dancer in front of him shook her barely-covered behind close to his face. The small man laughed and smacked her bum, causing the dancer to moan and giggle. Two other girls were on either side of Cobblepot, massaging and kissing his body.

A knock on his door made him groan in annoyance and gesture the girls off of him. They grumbled and pouted about wanting more time with their lovely Mr. Cobblepot and Penguin himself was silently cursing whoever was behind that door for robbing him of his wonderful time and leaving him with a big problem in his pants.

"Come in, come in!" Cobblepot yelled. The door opened and in walked a seriously deformed man. Half of his body was normal, looking like someone that would be on his way to a bank or law firm or detective's office. The other half was completely twisted and ruined, the white suit turning into a burnt and decayed shade of black. His face was good-looking, almost handsome on one side. The other was a melted, mutilated mess of burned flesh and a bloodshot, crazy eye.

"Ah, it's you, Dent," said Penguin as Two-Face walked into the room and took a seat across from Penguin. "Not that I don't love having you here, Harv, but when exactly do you plan on getting back to your ol' routine?"

"You know why we can't go back home, Cobblepot," said Two-Face. "Something's out there, and it doesn't follow the Bat's rules. If anything, you should be thankful that we're leaving once that son of a bitch is gone. We could just kill you and take this spot for ourselves..."

Two-Face pulled a gun from his jacket and aimed it at Penguin, making the small man's eyes widen in fear. Then Two-Face pulled a coin from his front jacket pocket and tossed it in the air. It flipped and flipped and flipped before finally falling back into his hand. And just like that, Two-Face put the gun back in his jacket pocket.

"Don't you ever do that again," growled Penguin.

"So what exactly is your plan? Just wait it out?" Two-Face asked.

"Of course I have my men out searching for the bloke that killed Falcone, but I'm not risking my arse for a second! So to answer your question, mate, yeah. I plan to wait it out," replied Penguin.

"And what exactly do you plan to do if Falcone's killer is found?"

"Either they work for me, or they get fed to Tiny." Cobblepot chuckled at that, thinking of every other unfortunate soul that had been gone below the surface of his fish tank and had never come up.

"And what do you plan to do if the killer finds you?"

"Well, you should already know this part, Dent!" Loud, thumping steps could be heard outside the room. Two-Face soon gained a look of realization and understanding on his face - well, the normal part - as the door swung open. A hulking figure stomped into the room, growling and hissing as it looked down at the two men staring back at it.

"Ah, Croc ol' boy! Glad you could make it! But you really should learn to knock next time," said Penguin as the reptilian brute glared at him. Penguin reached into a box next to him and pulled out a cigar, offering it to Croc. "Care for a smoke?"

"Do you have what I want?" Croc asked, ignoring Cobblepot's cigar. Instead of putting the cigar back in the box, Cobblepot put it in his own mouth and pulled out a lighter to ignite it.

"Of course. Twenty-five grand, as promised," said Cobblepot, his speaking muffled by the cigar in his mouth. He snapped his fingers and one of his dancing girls came forward with a large black case, holding it out and opening it. Inside were stacks upon stacks of money, all tidy and wrapped like a birthday present for a child. Croc slammed the case shut and snatched it from the dancer, making her squeal in surprise. She turned around and got lightly spanked on the behind by Cobblepot as she walked away.

"And?" Croc asked as he put the case down. "What about my other fee?"

"Ah," replied Two-Face as he reached into his jacket again. Penguin started to move his body away from Two-Face as he remembered what the disfigured man had in there and how it was pointed at him earlier. But it wasn't a gun that Two-Face pulled out of his jacket; it was a file. On the file, the Arkham logo was boldly printed. "We got it when we went through records. I know what your fee was when Cobblepot contacted the both of us about his plan and I decided to pay this part of it."

"Excellent," said Croc as he grabbed the file out of Two-Face's hand. He opened the file and pulled out a sheet of paper, reading over the information it told. Croc chuckled and put the paper back in the file before flipping through the papers and finding another one, pulling it out. This one didn't display words but instead showed a picture, a photograph; it was of a young woman with dark brown hair and bright blue eyes. They were HER eyes.

"That's quite a gal ya got there, Croc," said Cobblepot as he leaned to look at the picture Croc was holding. "She mean anything to ya?"

Croc dare not answer that, for he knew what Penguin would do if he had that information. If Penguin knew that Croc had an attachment to that girl, he would most definitely use her to hold Croc in his clutches forever. Then again, Penguin was such a small man who couldn't run very far, and the slow ones tasted the best. He slid the picture back in the folder and grabbed his case, turning towards the door.

"You've got yourselves protection, boys," said Croc. "Don't make me regret it. Now show me to my room."

"We'll show you the suite," said Two-Face as he walked out of the room with Croc, leading him down the hall.

"Now that those blokes are gone..." Penguin gestured to his girls to continue their show. One of them ran to the door and put a little sign on the handle of the outside. It read 'Do Not Disturb' in bright red letters. Once the door was shut, the show continued.

The girl that was dancing and twerking in front of Penguin before was returning to her post, repeating her actions with more gusto. Closer and closer her rear end came to his face, his wide and focused eyes following it's movement. The girl on his right was kissing his face all over, sometimes moving down to his neck. Her hand was at his fat belly, gently rubbing and massaging it. The girl on his left was rubbing herself against him, using one hand to move his hand to her breasts while her other went down his body to his pants. She unbuckled them and slid her hand inside, getting closer and closer to her destination as Cobblepot chuckled and moaned.

* * *

The room was dark. The only sources of illumination were two lamps on the long table. Several figures sat at the table, all looking at each other. No one said anything, but the tone of the room said all: vengeance was in the air.

"So when do we get down to business?" Alberto Falcone asked, breaking the silence. Everyone else at the table looked at him.

"Business has already begun, Alberto," replied his sister Sophia. "You should know that."

"No, I don't know that, Sophia. The only thing I know is that we are sitting at a table in an office instead of being out on the town looking for the bastard that killed Father! I know that if he saw the reaction all of you are having to his death, he would be ashamed!"

"Alberto," Vincent interjected. "Our father was a calm and collected man. He would want us thinking rationally in order to avenge him. And right now, you're thinking is the exact opposite."

"Fuck you, Vincent! And fuck you too, Sophia!" Alberto yelled. The older brother and sister looked at each other and then back at their younger sibling with annoyance. "Am I seriously the only one who wants to give our father the justice he deserves? If you two were right in the head, you would join me!"

"If you were right in the head, you would shut up and let us show off our plan," Sophia spat. Alberto stuttered for a moment before sitting down with an angry look on his face.

"Now, I understand your anxiousness and drive to avenge Dad, Alberto. But unlike you, I will go about means of revenge in a smart and easy way." Alberto had a confused look on his face.

"Vincent and I have a way of getting back at the person that killed Father, and we won't have to lift a finger," Sophia explained, a smug grin on her face.

"How?" asked Alberto.

Vincent reached for the intercom and pressed the button to talk into it, "Can you send him in, please?"

The door opened and in walked an armored man. His face was hidden beneath a mask, the only sign of anyone being under the uniform being the one cold, grey eye. One half of his mask was a dark blue, almost black. It seemed like it was made to blend into the darkness of the night sky. The other half greatly contrasted it though. The side with the eye was a bright orange, making the rest of the outfit noticeable. If the outfit itself was the only thing this man had, then anyone would laugh themselves silly if they heard he was a dangerous assassin.

On his back was a hilted sword joined by a shrunken staff. On his belt were several pouches most likely containing small weapons, gadgets, and ammunitions that would be expected on someone like him. A gun was at his belt, ready to be pulled from its holster if anyone tried to make a move.

"Everyone, this is Deathstroke. He is the best assassin money can buy, and that's not just words," said Vincent. Deathstroke looked around the room at the Falcone siblings before turning his full attention on Vincent.

"What's the target?" Deathstroke asked.

"Well, we have no face," replied Vincent before he held up a plastic evidence bag. Inside was a blood-coated throwing star with strange symbols on it. "But we do have this."

"A throwing star?"

"Some of our police friends at the GCPD kindly donated that when they heard what we were trying to do. We hope you can use this to your advantage, yes?" Vincent asked.

"It will take a bit of time, but yeah. By the end of the month, whoever killed Carmine Falcone will soon join him in Hell."

* * *

_She was so beautiful; her blue eyes, her dark flowing hair, her sweet smile. God, she was tantalizing. The grey blanket covered up her body, but based on the fact that there were no straps or shirt collars anywhere and her bare leg was sticking out from under the covers, she had no clothes on._

_"Mmmm, Waylon..." The way she moaned his name made him shiver with excitement and lust. He licked his chops in anticipation for what was to come. "Come to me, Waylon!"_

_He got down into a crawling position and began to creep towards her. He got to her legs and reached for his pants. With a quick pull, his erection was free and aiming at her. She giggled at his physical excitement and bit her lip, motioning with a finger for him to crawl closer. He crawled over her until he was face to face with her, his arms planted on top of hers. He lowered his face to hers, his eyes half-lidded with seduction._

_"Waylon," she moaned. He opened his mouth and extended his tongue out to her face, licking along her cheek. When he reached the top of her face, he repeated the process again. Lick, lick, lick. His tongue moved from her cheek down to her jaw and neck, making her moan even more._

_His cock rubbed against her legs, dripping drops of precum onto the blankets. His tongue moved from her neck to her exposed collarbone before it went back into his mouth. He started making a strange purring noise - something he rarely did - as he reached for the covers above her breasts. He began to pull them down, eyes focusing and eagerly awaiting the prize behind the curtains..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanted to add more but I accidentally hit a wrong button. Enjoy anyway


	9. Looking Pretty

Croc slowly opened his eyes and gradually saw more of the real world. Was it a dream? It had felt so real. He could still taste her on his tongue, the feel of her flesh sending shivers up his spine. He looked down and saw a huge tent in his pants, clearly active because of the dream he just had.

_Best wait and let it die down,_ he thought. But it didn't go away. She didn't go away.

"Oh, what the hell," Croc muttered as he reached down into his pants and grasped his cock. He moved it up and down, closing his eyes and grunting, "Just like that, Doc. Just like that."

He could picture it now: her grabbing his dick with her hands rubbing it up and down, her switching her hands with her breasts and sandwiching his erection between them, her straddling him and prepping to take a wild ride of ecstasy on his throbbing, pulsing desire. He continued to rub up and down, jerking faster and faster as he got closer to release. He panted and let his tongue flop out of his mouth as his hand was a blur of green and grey.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah!" he yelled as his dick exploded with cum. The sticky white substance spilled over his claws and onto his lap as he roared in bliss, exhausted from his job well done. "Oh Doc..."

But as he looked down at his messy crotch, he realized something: it wasn't enough. While he had just experienced a quick session of euphoria and had frankly enjoyed it, he knew that it was missing something: "It's her," he said to himself. The standard self-pleasure was fine, of course, but Croc knew that his urges would still be unsatisfied until he had the real thing. He wouldn't be satisfied until he had her.

* * *

Katie opened her eyes slowly, blinking a couple of times to get the sleep out of her eyes. She sat up and looked over at her phone, seeing that she had one new text message and an alert that was all too familiar to residents of Gotham. She shot off the couch and snatched her phone from the coffee table, looking at the messages that were on the screen.

"Oh no," she muttered. "Oh no, no, no!" She could see that the text Dylan sent her was sent at 8:47 P.M. and her phone said that the current time was 9:29 P.M. Where was he? Why was he late?

The door handle began to jiggle and turn, startling Katie. "W-who's there?" she called out. The door suddenly swung open as the man outside dashed inside and slammed it shut.

"Dylan!" she yelled as she jumped into his arms and hugged him. He hugged back with one arm while the other set down the plastic bags he was holding. "Where were you, you jerk?"

"Getting you a little something, you nut," he replied as he picked up one of the bags. "Also, why didn't you lock the door? Didn't you get my text?"

"I was sleeping. I only just woke up and saw the messages," she replied.

Dylan looked at her with a look of confusion. "You were sleeping at 8:30?"

"I had a long day at work," Katie explained. "I can only hope that tomorrow is shorter."

Suddenly, her phone began to ring. She looked at the contact info and saw that the person calling her was Quincy Sharp. She pushed the 'accept' button and held it up to her ear: "Hello?"

"Ah, Doctor Rothman. Glad I could reach you."

"Warden Sharp, sir. What can I help you with?"

"Well, I was just calling to inform you that you need not go to work tomorrow."

Katie's eyes widened. "What do you mean? Am I fired?"

"No! No, no." She breathed a sigh of relief. "I only tell you this because of the breakout that occurred tonight. I assume you heard about that, yes?"

"Of course," Katie replied. "So the Asylum is closed for investigation, then?"

"Correct, but there's another reason why you specifically shouldn't come in, Doctor."

That was strange to Katie. Why would she need more evidence to not come into work? "And that reason would be?"

"Well, I'm not sure if you read the entire alert that was sent out, Doctor Rothman..." She hadn't. She had only read the first few words and then Dylan's text. What else could have been on it? "... but your patient was one of the escapees."

"Oh no," she muttered. How could this have happened? Waylon Jones was one of the biggest and dangerous patients in Arkham Asylum. How was it possible that he was able to slip through security with ease? If anything, he should have been the one inmate that was easy to catch. Well, relatively easy. "Well, thank you Warden. I hope he can be found soon."

"Be safe, Doctor Rothman. Goodbye." The line went dead and Katie put her phone in her pocket. She walked into the kitchen as Dylan began emptying the bags of their contents.

"What was all that about?" he asked.

"Just Warden telling me that I don't have to go to work tomorrow," she replied.

"Oh. Nice," said Dylan.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but she interrupted him, "No, I'm still not going to the party." Dylan closed his mouth, his unasked question answered.

But he opened his mouth again, saying something else, "Well, even if you're not going to the party, I still got something for you so you could look pretty." He reached into one of the bags and pulled out a small, maroon box. Katie gasped as he opened it and revealed the beautiful necklace inside.

"Oh Dylan! It's beautiful!" she said as she pulled the necklace out of the box to get a closer look at it. The silver chain glimmered and glistened, its beauty matched only by the charm that hung upon it. The charm was a gold heart with a 'K' engraved on it in beautiful font.

"Open it," said Dylan.

Katie looked closer and saw that the charm was in fact a locket. "Oh shit!" she laughed in realization. She opened the heart and saw a small picture of her younger self hugging a younger Dylan while posing for the picture. "Dylan, that's so sweet," she choked as she wiped some growing tears out of her eyes.

"Yeah, well..." Dylan trailed off as Katie began to softly cry. He reached out to her and was met by her jumping into his arms. He wrapped them around her and hugged her while shedding a few tears of his own.

"I love you, Dylan," she whimpered.

"I love you too, Katie," he replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I meant for this to be a LONG one but I'm tired and just wanted to post this chapter before I start working on something else


	10. Life of the Party

Dylan looked himself over in the mirror, messing with his jacket and tie. In his fumbling, he caused his tie to become loose and his collar to become uneven. "Oh damn," he muttered as he kept messing up his outfit. "Katie, can you help me with this?"

"What did you do?" Katie asked as she walked up behind him to see what she had to fix. She reached for his tie from behind and tightened it, bringing it back to its original classy state. "Don't mess with it!" she scolded as she turned him to tidy his suit.

"Fine," he pouted.

"I'm hesitant to let you put the pin in," she quipped before handing him the small pin that showed the logo of Wayne Industries.

"Gimme that," Dylan grumbled as he pinned the logo to his lapel. He struck a pose in the mirror before turning around and facing Katie. "How do I look?" he asked.

"Like you're about to go to a fancy party," she replied with a smile. He smiled back and gave her a quick hug.

"Are you absolutely sure you don't want to go?" he asked as he let go.

Katie rolled her eyes and replied, "Yes, I'm sure. Now go. You don't want to be late." Dylan gave her a goodbye wave and opened the door. Katie clutched the locket in her hand as it shut.

* * *

"Thank you. Thank you so much for coming. So glad to see you. Nice to see you too. Thanks for coming." Bruce Wayne had been repeating himself with these words all night. Every man in a black suit and woman in a white dress had crowded around him, desperate to meet the man of the hour. Some of the people were nice and decent to be around, of course, but a lot of the crowd were just posh bluebloods that sought the company of another wealthy lifeform.

"Master Bruce, Dylan is here," whispered Alfred in Bruce's ear. Now that caught his attention. He looked and saw Alfred pointing to a young man in the crowd who seemed to be looking for someone.

"Thank you, Alfred," replied Bruce as he moved through the crowd to get to the young man. The young man's face brightened as he saw Bruce approaching.

"Mister Wayne! Good to see you, sir!" Dylan said as he shook Bruce's outstretched hand.

"Good to see you too, Dylan," replied Bruce. "Are you ready?" he asked while gesturing to the stage.

"Yeah," Dylan sighed. "Just a little nervous. I mean, I've never done anything like this before."

Bruce could understand Dylan's anxiety. After all, this was a very big accomplishment that he had reached and there was a lot of pressure to make sure everything went well. Luckily, Bruce would do everything in his power to be there for the lad.

"Mister Wayne!" Bruce turned around and saw an old man with a cane approaching him. He could recognize the old man right away as Quincy Sharp, the warden of Arkham Asylum.

"Mister Sharp, it's a pleasure to see you here," said Bruce as he shook the warden's hand. He turned back to Dylan and directed the old man's attention to him. "Dylan, this is-"

"Quincy Sharp, current warden of Arkham Asylum and candidate for mayor," Dylan said, cutting off his boss as he shook Sharp's outstretched hand. "I've heard a lot about you, sir."

"Oh really?" Sharp asked. "How so?"

"Well, I have seen you on the news," Dylan replied. Sharp rolled his eyes in annoyance at that. Everywhere he went, everyone always knew him as the dimwit warden of the madhouse and the failing excuse for a mayor. "And my sister is a doctor there."

"Oh?" Sharp asked, throwing his assumption out the window. "Who is your sister?"

"Doctor Katelyn Rothman."

* * *

The dark transport truck waited outside the apartment building. Its headlights were off, but the engine was running. The large inside held three people; two were normal-looking and short while the third was tall, muscular, and scaly.

"This the place?" asked one of the thugs. Croc looked at the page in the file before lunging towards the door and swinging it open. "Guess it is."

Croc ran into the building, cracking the glass doors as he blew past them. The doorman looked up with a horrified expression before Croc opened his jaws and bit the poor man's head clean off. Blood spewed and squirted from the headless neck like a geyser as the body fell to the ground. Croc wanted so desperately to chow down, but he couldn't get distracted when he was so close.

"Where are you, Doc?" he muttered. He opened the file again and read her apartment number-5C-and ran towards the stairwell. He had to be fast; someone could see the doorman's body before he was able to leave and everything could be ruined. He opened the stairwell door and dashed up the stairs, luckily avoiding anyone on the stairs. He opened the door to the fifth floor and walked down the hall, checking the numbers on the doors until he found the one he was looking for.

"Knock knock," Croc growled. "Here's the Croc."

* * *

Dylan was pacing back and forth behind the curtains. Bruce watched him walk back and forth a couple more times before he halted the lad by grabbing his shoulder.

"Relax," said Bruce.

"With all do respect Mister Wayne, this is the first time I've done something like this," said Dylan as he looked at the curtains with nervousness.

"Didn't you give a similar presentation to myself and the rest of the board in order to fund this fascinating project of yours?" asked Bruce.

"I did, but that was in a conference room with a few people. This is a humungous crowd of people in the middle of Gotham City," replied Dylan.

He went back to pacing back and forth for a minute before a woman in a nice dress poked her head behind the curtain. "Mister Wayne, you're on," she said before disappearing. Bruce gave Dylan a thumbs-up and mouthed "You've got this" before he walked through the curtains. Dylan heard applause and cheering from the crowd on the other side of the fabric walls before him.

"Thank you everyone. Tonight, we are here to celebrate and welcome the next step in making Gotham City a better place," Bruce said. The speech had begun and Dylan's cue would soon come. "The brilliant minds and bodies of Wayne Industries have come up with a revolutionary piece of equipment that will improve the lives of everyone here and beyond, but don't just take my word for it." The woman from before poked her head behind the curtain once more to signal Dylan that he was about to go on stage. "As it just so happens, we have the brilliant mind that came up with this project here tonight. Everyone, please welcome to the stage Mister Dylan Rothman!"

"You've got this," Dylan whispered to himself as he revealed himself from behind the curtain. People were clapping loudly, but he could tell it was out of politeness. He stepped up to the podium as Bruce stepped away, giving him a pat on the back as he did so. "Thank you everyone, thank you! Tonight is a very special and progressive night for all of us in Gotham City. Tonight, we take a big step in the right direction."

As he was talking, something under a sheet was rolled onto the stage. The audience whispered and muttered quietly as they wondered what was under the sheet. Whatever it was, it was big and tall.

"This beauty," said Dylan as he gestured to the sheet, "is going to change everything." Just then, he pulled off the sheet and revealed a tall, cylindrical column of metal and light. People began 'ooo'ing and 'aaa'ing at the sight of the mesmerizing machine. It glowed with blue light, though that light was somewhat hard to see because of the other lights on the premises.

"This is the new Wayne generator, built and manufactured right here in Gotham. It is an environmentally friendly, high-powered, machine capable of emitting superb amounts of energy," explained Dylan. He could see that the audience was less focused on him and more on gawking at the big, shiny generator. If he wanted to get through to them, he'd have to make it more interesting.

"Perhaps I should give you all a demonstration," said Dylan, signaling to some stage technicians to cut the power. They did just that and suddenly everything went dark. People gasped and asked what was going on, their confused looks being illuminated by the blue light of the generator. At least, the generator was the only source of illumination before all of the other lights came back on. Being fascinated with the generator's capabilities, the audience began to clap and cheer.

"And that is just a small example of what this thing can do!" Dylan announced. "Once again, thank you!"

* * *

Katie was pacing the floor. She wanted to text Dylan to ask how his presentation was going, but she was worried that she might interrupt and embarrass him. As she was pacing, she noticed herself in the mirror. She saw that her neck was bare and empty without her necklace, so she decided to fix that. Putting the necklace on, she looked at herself again and smiled at her completeness.

Thump thump thump. Katie stopped looking at herself and turned her gaze to the door. Thump thump thump. Loud, thundering noises were coming down the hall. They got louder as they got closer to the door, causing Katie to get more and more nervous. Her fear increased as the loud thumps stopped right outside her door. She didn't make a sound or move a muscle. All she did was pray that whatever was on the other side of the door would go away.

A loud bang against the door made her scream in surprise. She mentally smacked herself as she had not meant to do so, but there was nothing she could do about it now. Another bang sounded, and then another. If Katie took away the extreme force and slow timing of the blows against her door, she would have said it almost sounded like knocking. Another bang sounded, accompanied by a creaking sound; the door was giving away. Another bang and the door flew off its hinges before it fell to the ground.

In the shattered doorway of the apartment stood the lower half of a large, reptilian creature. Its top half was unseen as it was so big, but it revealed itself as it crouched down to peek into the home. Its yellow eyes landed on Katie immediately and the beast licked along its mouth with its grey tongue. In a truly terrifying voice that matched the monster, it said, "Hiya Doc."

* * *

"Wow! That was great!" Dylan cheered happily from his leather seat in the car. Bruce chuckled and patted Dylan on the shoulder.

"You did wonderfully, Dylan. With your generators, this city will change for the better," he said.

"With OUR generators, Mister Wayne," Dylan corrected. "None of this could have been done without you: the funding for the generators, the materials, the entire party..." Dylan looked around the entire car and rubbed the smooth leather seat. "And my ride home. Thanks for this, by the way."

"My pleasure," replied Bruce. "I couldn't let you walk home after everything you've done."

Dylan waved his hand in an 'oh please' motion and said, "Oh stop, Mister Wayne. You were the one that sold those generators to every big corporate head in Gotham. I'm still amazed you managed to get Warden Sharp to buy four."

"With any luck, those generators of yours will KEEP those patients in Arkham," said Bruce.

"I sure hope so. If it means Arkham Asylum is safe, it means Katie is safe."

"Um, sir..." The voice of Alfred drew Bruce and Dylan's attention to the front of the car. They were at Dylan's apartment, but something was wrong; police cars were everywhere, caution tape was placed around the entrance to the building, and the residents were standing outside with worried looks on their faces as officers tried to keep them from seeing what was inside.

"What the hell?" Dylan muttered as he and Bruce got out of the car. He approached a middle-aged woman that he knew as his next-door neighbor Ms. Milaney. She was always nice to him, always holding the door open for him, always making delightful conversation in the elevator. In Dylan's mind, she was a second mother to him.

When she saw him, her face turned from worry to relief mixed with sorrow. She pulled him into a hug, crying, "Oh Dylan, sweetie! I'm so glad you're alright! Everyone was so worried!"

"What happened here, Ms. Milaney?" asked Dylan. Before she could reply, a stretcher was carried out of the building with something being on top of it, concealed under a black sheet. A small trail of blood followed behind it.

"Something broke into the building," Ms. Milaney whispered. "It was one of the escapees from Arkham: Killer Croc."

Dylan's eyes went wide. His heartbeat slowed and slowed until there was nothing. Then, he was off. He ran into the building, ripping through the caution tape like it was nothing and pushing away the cops that tried to stop him. The ones in the lobby weren't fast enough to catch him as he ran for the stairwell. Some CSI team members were on the stairs, but Dylan hopped over them as the pursuing cops tried to push past the investigators. When he reached his floor, he saw that his door down the hall was guarded by officers. He didn't care. He just sprinted down the hall and went for the doorway when the cops reached out to halt him.

"Leave me alone!" Dylan yelled as he tried to push the officers out of his way, but they wouldn't budge.

"Sir, stop pushing against us! You need to leave immediately! This is a crime scene!"

"Katie! Katie!"

Dylan tried pushing one more time before he punched one of the officers in the jaw. The stunned cop was open to Dylan's attack, getting shoved down and falling on his ass while his partner tried to restrain the frantic young man. Unfortunately, she was just as vulnerable and got punched in the eye before getting shoved down in an identical manner. More cops began to move on Dylan but he shoved them all back. They had failed in their task of keeping him out of his apartment, but now he could understand why they had the extra security.

Something Dylan hadn't noticed when he was brawling with the cops was that the door was not in its right place; it was on the ground in a splintered heap. It seemed that every piece of furniture in the apartment was in ruins as they either had claw marks across them, were smashed into several pieces, or were just in different spots in the apartment than when Dylan had seen them last. The entire living room looked like what one imagined a tornado would do to a Kansas farm in the early thirties. Parts of the floor were scratched to hell, the TV was cracked, and the paint on the walls would have to be coated twice in order to be classified as 'chipped'.

Something drew Dylan's attention to the floor. When he looked closer, he dropped to his knees and reached down for it. Several cops, who were just standing there as their old commissioner Jim Gordon and another officer who's badge read 'Deego' across it held them back, began to call out for him not to touch it as it was evidence from a crime scene, but Officer Deego abruptly shushed them. What Dylan picked up and cradled in his hands while he quietly sobbed was a heart-shaped locket with a small picture of himself and Katie inside.

"No... no... NOOOO!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How many of you saw that coming, huh? Be honest, now. And sorry for taking so long with this.


	11. Meeting the Demon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken so long. With the whole COVID-19 thing going on, I've been unable to work on another chapter. Hope you enjoy this one and I hope you all stay safe.

"Let's go over this one more time, Mister Rothman," said the police officer. "You left for a party a couple of hours ago without your sister?"

"Yes," replied Dylan. "I went to the party for Wayne Industries and when I came back, all of you were taking pictures of my apartment and putting caution tape everywhere."

The officer gave him a scowl before he turned back to scribbling on his pad. As he finished writing his notes, he said, "We're only doing our jobs, sir. It just proves that you could have done a better job as a brother."

Dylan clenched his fists in anger. How dare this fat, piggish cop mock his pain and loss? He was one eye twitch away from punching this cop's lights out but a gentle hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"I'll handle this, Jenkins," said Officer Deego. The cop named Jenkins got a slightly aggravated look on his face before he walked away, leaving Dylan and Deego alone in the hallway. Every other officer was in the apartment taking samples from the crime scene or downstairs taking reports from other residents of the building. "Now then."

"I've already told you everything I know," Dylan said coldly.

"I know," replied Deego. Suddenly, Deego pulled Dylan in for a hug. Dylan was shocked at first from the hug, but he slowly sank into it and returned it with his own. Then, he felt a sob rise in his throat and a tear fall down his face; he was crying. He wanted to stop, he wanted to run, he wanted to be stronger, he didn't want to be vulnerable. And yet, he continued sobbing.

* * *

"Sir, would it be more urgent to hunt down Killer Croc rather than chase the mysterious owl assassin?" asked Alfred. "After all, Jones is a threat you have faced before. He is more predictable and easier to find. Besides, it would be a good service to Mister Rothman if we found his sister."

"As much as I want to help Dylan out and find his sister, I need to find this assassin before he kills again," replied Bruce. "Besides, the GCPD knows all of Croc's usual hangouts. They can find him and Katelyn Rothman."

"Perhaps, sir. But they always have a hard time rounding him up, and time is of the essence for Miss Rothman if Jones' previous criminal history is any indication."

"Have faith in Commissioner Gordon, Alfred," replied Bruce. "I'm confident that he will find Katie and bring her home safe and sound. Now, I need to get to the Batcave to analyze those crime scenes."

"Right away, sir."

* * *

Batman looked over the holographic scene again.

"So the assassin came from the back entrance and killed the two guards outside as well as the bartender," he narrated as he watched the scene unfold with his own eyes. "Based on the bar's inventory, all the bottles were stocked. And the remains of the broken bottle found embedded in the neck of one of the victims didn't appear on the inventory list for the bar, meaning that the assassin brought it from outside. Based on the fact that the assassin has other tools at his disposal, I can only assume that he wanted to kill the men in brutal and painful ways."

"That doesn't bode well, sir," said Alfred as he walked up behind Batman. "Someone that makes death intentionally painful is someone with a dangerous mind."

"Indeed. That's why I need to hunt down this owl assassin before he goes after someone else."

Batman continued to watch the crime scene as the owl killed the thug that had just stepped out of Falcone's office. There was something familiar about his movements, though.

"Master Bruce, are you sure that hunting down this mystery man is the true priority here?" Alfred asked, interrupting Batman's thoughts.

"Is this about Katie Rothman being captured by Croc?" Batman asked, answering his butler's question with a question.

"Yes, but that's not all," replied Alfred. "What about the escaped inmates from Arkham? What about Joker or Two-Face or Scarecrow?"

"I fully intend to find them and bring them to justice. But I can't get this person out of my mind," said Batman.

"But sir-"

"Alfred," Bruce snapped. "Drop it."

Alfred froze and looked down at his feet before regaining his posture and replied, "Yes sir."

Batman looked back at his computer, looking closer at the attack style the assassin used when he killed Falcone. That looked so familiar to him...

He went to the computer and pulled up a folder full of simulated attack styles. He opened it and scrolled down to a certain file labeled 'League of Assassins' and opened it. He pulled up a simulation of a League ninja and projected it next to the hologram of the owl. What he saw chilled him to the bone: the holographic figures of the League ninja and owl were making the exact same movements.

* * *

It had been a long time since Batman had been down here. While he didn't want to come down here, it would be nice to see her again. Though Alfred had reminded him to stay on task, Batman would consider meeting up with her a good thing compared to why he was down in the underground city.

"Sir?" Alfred's voice filled Batman's ears. "Have you reached the hideout of the League of Assassins?"

"Almost," Batman replied. "I'm in the city now. Ra's' hideout is close now."

"Be careful, sir. You may be a good fighter, but you know what the League has at their disposal."

Batman rolled his eyes, replying, "Yes Alfred."

"I don't mean to be a nag, sir. I just want you to exercise caution."

"I will, Alfred," replied Batman. "Thank you."

He continued walking through the straight tunnel until he came to a pair of golden doors. This was it; this was the gateway to the League of Assassins. Batman reached for the door, the gold being so close...

"Not so fast," said a voice behind him. Batman spun around quickly to confront whoever was behind him, but wasn't quick enough to dodge the sword pressed against his throat.

The ninja holding the sword glared at Batman, growling, "Detective."

"I'm here to speak with Ra's," Batman said. "Let me through."

"You do not get an audience with our master!" barked the ninja. "The great Ra's al Ghul does not-"

"Enough."

That voice... it was HER!

"Talia," Batman greeted.

Talia al Ghul walked up to Batman and the ninja, who had lowered her sword when she saw her mistress approaching. Batman and Talia stared at each other, a spark of something hidden and passionate resonating between them.

"Batman," Talia replied, some of the passion sprinkled into her voice. Then, her face became more serious. "Why are you here?" she asked.

"I need to ask your father some questions. This is a matter of importance," he explained. Talia stared at him for a moment, deciding whether or not to let him into their domain. Finally, she nodded and escorted him through the golden doors.

The inside of the League's hideout was a large chamber filled with statues, a training ground, shrines, and a giant pit full of bubbling green liquid: the Lazarus Pit. Sitting on the throne in front of the pit was Ra's al Ghul, the man that Batman had come to see. Ra's looked at Batman and quickly got up from his throne to greet the bat-themed man.

"Detective," he greeted. "What are you here for? Have you come to take you place as the new Head of the Demon?"

"No," Batman replied. "I'm here to ask you a few questions."

Ra's scoffed and turned away from Batman.

"You expect me to answer your pointless questions? I will not have you waste my time, Detective! Get rid of him!"

Many of the ninjas turned on Batman, drawing their swords and raising them to strike. However, Talia spoke up.

"Wait, Father!"

Ra's turned back to them and gestured for the ninjas to stand down. He stepped towards Batman and Talia, motioning for Batman to continue.

"Ra's, are you sending assassins into Gotham City to kill people?" Batman asked. Both Talia and Ra's looked at Batman with surprise. Even before he replied, Batman could already tell what Ra's' answer was.

"Why would I waste my time and resources with something as pointless as that, Detective? I have nothing to gain."

"Why do you think the League of Assassins is responsible for this?" asked Talia.

Batman pulled out a small device from his belt and placed it on the ground, causing some of the ninjas to back away or pull out their swords as they thought it was some sort of bomb. Instead, Batman raised his arm and pressed some buttons on his gauntlet, making the device light up and project two images. The first image was a ninja like the ones watching and the second was a strange warrior in armor that looked somewhat like an owl. Suddenly, both images began to make attacks at the air in front of them, demonstrating their skill. What puzzled them was that the figures were doing the exact same moves at the exact same time.

"Because this mysterious owl assassin has the same combat skills as you," Batman replied. Ra's and Talia looked at each other, anger and confusion expressed on their faces.

"I assure you Detective, none of my assassins have gone to Gotham City. How that assassin has our skills is beyond me," said Ra's.

"Then where would that owl have gotten their training?" Batman inquired. "Have there been any times when a member has deserted your League? Perhaps they've returned."

"No one has ever left the League of Assassins," said Ra's. But then he suddenly got a pondering look on his face, as if he wasn't sure if he had given the right answer. "Actually, there was one man. But he's dead."

"Who was he?" asked Batman as he picked his projecting device off the ground.

"His name was David Cain. He was a warrior that deserted himself from the League of Assassins after he tried to kill me."

"And you're sure he's dead?"

"Positive."

* * *

"Thanks for letting me stay here, Tyler," said Dylan as he threw his bag down on the floor.

"No problem," replied Tyler. "It must suck having your apartment be a crime scene."

"Yeah, but it sucks worse when your place is trashed and your sister is kidnapped," Dylan replied blankly.

Tyler looked at Dylan in surprise from the kitchen. He grabbed the two mugs of cocoa and brought them to the coffee table before he sat down on the couch.

"Um, yeah," he replied in an uncomfortable tone. "So you're okay?"

"Of course not. I'm terrified about what could happen to her. To be honest, the only reason I'm not out there now is because..." Dylan drifted off as his lips began to quiver and his eyes began to grow wet. "I... I don't know."

Tyler placed a hand on Dylan's shoulder to comfort him, but Tyler knew it wouldn't be enough. Nothing would ever be enough.

"I know how you feel, man," Tyler said as he looked over at the small framed picture of himself and a young woman hugging and laughing. Tears began to fall down his face as well. "I know how you feel."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if this chapter sucked. I just wasn't feeling it like I usually do but I'm glad I finally got it done. Hope you enjoyed it!


	12. Pleasurable Company

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By far the longest chapter I have written. Yeah this has some sexual stuff in it, guys. Just letting you know now.

Katie felt softness and warmth around her. She clutched onto whatever it was and felt silky fabric in her hands. She suddenly felt a swarm of pain in her head like a massive migraine and realized that the comfort of the silk had distracted her from the agony. She slowly opened her eyes and was met with searing light, making her squint as it increased her headache.

"Where am I?" she asked to no one in particular.

"The Iceberg Lounge," replied an ominous and familiar voice. Suddenly, Katie's memory came flooding back to her: hiding in her apartment, her door being broken down, being dragged out of her home into the night...

_Waylon, _she remembered. _It was him._

She opened her eyes fully and saw that she was laying on a large bed with bone-white sheets. The room she was in looked nice and luxurious, almost as if it belonged in a five-star hotel. There were two doors leading out of the room, one of them most likely a bathroom and the other being an exit. The only thing keeping her from exploring the room and potentially leaving was the large reptilian monster sitting in the chair across from the bed.

"Croc, what am I doing here?" she asked.

"You're my guest, Doc," he replied. "Or can I call you Katelyn?"

Katie gasped at his saying her full first name. Of course he had heard her say her full name before during their sessions, but he had never actually called her that. It was always "Doc" or "Doctor Rothman" or "Bitch" though that last one was when they had first met. 

"N-no, Doc is fine," she whimpered as she tried to crawl away from the now-standing Croc. 

He shook his head and said, "Nah. Katelyn sounds nicer."

He had reached the bed and began to crawl on it, making it creak and groan under his weight. His large clawed hands got closer and closer to Katie's feet which made her bring her legs to her chest. His hands suddenly were on either side of her figure as he loomed over her.

"Katelyn, Katelyn, Katelyn," Croc cooed as he lowered his head to Katie's ear. She tried to lean away but was stopped by his scaly hand grabbing her waist. He took a deep sniff of her neck and brown hair and growled in desire. "You smell wonderful, Katelyn."

"Croc, please!" Katie exclaimed as she pushed his head away. Her touch only excited him though and he kept up the treatment. "Croc! CROC!"

"Yeah, say my name," he purred as he nuzzled against her. His sharp teeth scraped her cheeks but drew no blood, only causing some tingling discomfort and something else, something Katie hadn't felt in a long time. That certain something became more definite as Croc's large tongue landed on her neck and slithered up to her earlobe.

* * *

"Hey, did you hear that Batman killed Zsasz?" asked Rick.

"What? No he didn't!" Devon retorted. 

"Yeah he did!" Rick insisted as he took another shot of bourbon. "Everyone says that Batman finally snapped and killed Zsasz. The cops brought his body out and there was a giant slash through his neck."

It wasn't Batman, you idiot! It was someone else." Devon put his cigarette in the ashtray and took his own shot- meaning a giant swig straight from the bottle -of bourbon. Rick frowned at the poor treatment of the liquor he had paid for. "Someone that the boss hasn't seen. That's why he and Two-Face are held up here and why they got that monster freak guarding them."

"Oh yeah. Wondered why that thing was here."

"You know what I'm wondering?" Devon asked. Rick gave him a look that asked 'what are you wondering?' and Devon responded, "I'm wondering why that beast snatched that woman and brought her here."

Both men got up from their small table and walked towards the stairs that led to the suites. Goons like them were forced to sleep together in what could only be described as a makeshift bunk or leave the premises and go to a hotel. Those that made good business for the Penguin got to sleep in one of the good rooms by themselves. Those that really screwed up Cobblepot's operations got demoted from sleeping in the bunk to sleeping with the fishes. Business partners of Penguin got the best suites in the entire lounge, only rivaled by the room belonging to Cobblepot himself. The two goons headed up the stairs to the suite of Cobblepot's largest business partner ever and the object of their ongoing conversation.

"Why do you think he took her? He wants to eat her, of course!" Rick said as they got closer to the door. "That's what he does."

"I guess," said Devon. "But why kidnap the bitch and not just eat her right then and there? Seems kind of pointless."

"He might like to savor his meals," Rick guessed as the two stopped outside the door to Croc's suite. "But my best guess is that woman is mince meat as we speak."

"What a shame," said Devon, causing Rick to look at him in confusion. "That lady was kinda hot. Wouldn't have minded a second look at her," he explained.

Rick shook his head, but then stopped. He turned to Devon and asked, "How hot we talking?"

"Well, I've seen better in magazines and some strip joints but she's one I wouldn't mind taking for a ri-"

A sudden female scream from the room stopped their conversation. While the two men could spend the rest of the night dreaming for a chance at the woman the monster had brought home with him, they knew it was not to be. Chances are she was dead already and she would be lucky if there was enough left to remember her by.

* * *

Katie let out a loud terrified shriek as Croc licked her. However, he stopped when he heard her panicking. This was not what he had wanted from her. Sure, he had expected some slight resistance but not her having a full-on fit. When he licked her in Arkham, she didn't react like she was doing right now. Then again, he hadn't exactly seen her reaction as he was led back to the sewers.

"Croc, please stop!" she begged, pushing against his scaly muscled chest. "I don't want this!"

"Katelyn, do you not unde-"

"Katie!" she spat. "My name is Katie! Doctor Katie Rothman!"

"Katie..." Croc held that name on his tongue and smiled. "That sounds even better than Katelyn."

He suddenly felt a slight sting on his cheek as Katie slapped him with her free hand. It hadn't harmed him at all but the shock was enough to let her go. Katie looked up at him with stern eyes, eyes that were fighting back tears of fear. Croc looked down at the woman with concern.

"Katie, I'm sorry," he said as he leaned back to let her sit up. She just stayed in the curled position though. 

As much as she wanted to yell at him, to kick and scream, to run, to beg him not to kill her, she took a deep breath and calmly said, "It's okay, Croc."

"Actually," he said, "can you call me Waylon?"

The time Katie had been waiting for had finally come: Killer Croc allowed her to call him by his true name. When she had first seen him, he hated it when she called him by his name. To make him more comfortable around her, she agreed to call him what he wanted until a time when he would open himself up enough and allow her to call him Waylon Jones. 

"Alright Waylon, I'm gonna make this an emergency session," she declared. "And I want the truth and straight answers, okay?"

Croc gave no response and just stared at her, so she assumed he was going to do as she said. 

"Waylon, why did you take me out of my home and bring me here? Why did you... lick me?" she asked, pausing for a moment to wipe his saliva off of her neck. 

Croc licked his lips to savor the taste of her flesh before answering, "Because I want you with me. Because I like you, Katie, both your personality and your flavor."

"What aspects of my personality do you find likable?" she asked. She dare not focus on that flavor thing.

"I told you before. You are someone who genuinely cares about me, someone who has good in her heart," he said as he leaned down and was face-to-face with her, "Someone who I love."

His tongue suddenly shot from his maw into Katie's own mouth. The woman struggled and moaned as Waylon's tongue found her own and began a gentle battle with hers. His hand was on the back of her head and was pushing her against his mouth in a ghastly kiss. Her fists were beating against Waylon's chest rapidly as they began to kiss, but they slowly stopped and just pressed against his muscles.

Waylon pulled his tongue back out of Katie's mouth after getting his fill. A long line of spit connected their mouths. Croc was quietly panting in pleasure while Katie was gasping for air. 

"Even better than I imagined," he said. The hand on the back of her head drifted down her back, tingling her spine with it's smooth texture. His other hand stroked her face as she stared at him in shock and he stared at her in lust. Then, it lowered from her face to the top of her chest.

"W-Waylon... what are you..?" she asked him even though she knew what he wanted. Why wasn't she stopping him? He had just kissed her and she had allowed him to do it. She had... enjoyed it, but why? Why was she loving his treatment of her? 

_What is happening to me? _she thought. _Am I seriously going along with this? This isn't healthy for either of us._

"Waylon," she said as he started to pull on the collar of her shirt, like he wanted it off. "I think that these feelings you have are what doctors call transference."

Waylon didn't seem to pay attention at first, continuing to pull on the collar until it ripped and the top button flew off. He focused on pulling the rest off as he asked with little interest, "What's that?"

"It's when someone transfers love meant for one person to someone else," she shakily explained as another button got torn off of her shirt and more of her got exposed. "So what you're feeling for me could be feelings meant for someone else in your life."

Croc stopped his ruining of Katie's shirt and looked at her. His hand went away from her shirt and grabbed her hands on his chest, encasing them in his own. They were warm and loving and his gaze was kind and deep. Those eyes were not the eyes of a monster; they were the eyes of a good man.

"Katie," he said, "it is impossible for my feelings to be transfo- transfe- oh whatever the hell you said. And why? Because I have never loved anyone else before."

She wanted to giggle at his not getting the word right, but she was more focused on what had just come out of his mouth. In all the time as his doctor, he rarely talked about the people in his life before he came to Gotham. Her fellow doctors at Arkham barely tried to get that information out of him and he would try to eat the face off of the ones that made remarks that his past involved a toxic swamp and a black lagoon. All she could ever get out of him was that he was bullied by the kids at school and that his guardian was abusive. He hadn't said who the guardian was but it didn't matter to Katie as they were part of the reason Waylon was the way he was.

"What do you mean?' she asked. "Surely you have loved someone else before."

"No," replied Croc. "I have never loved anyone else. I didn't have any friends in school, my parents were gone, and my aunt was a drunk abusive bitch. Everyone treated me like a freak and hated me, so I hated them back. I always assumed that love was some dopey shit meant for hippies and morons and that I would never feel anything like that... until I met you."

Katie's heart changed in that moment. She finally understood what Waylon was saying: he loved her for her; it wasn't about his affections being misplaced or anything like that. While his actions were definitely extreme, his intentions were still the same: find her and keep her so he could love her forever. Katie had never felt love like this before. Of course she had Dylan and Denise and some other friends, but she had never felt true love. What she was feeling in her heart was small, but it was still there. It would grow over time until it would consume her entire body and she would be powerless to deny it, so why ignore it? She knew then and there that she, Katelyn Rothman, loved Killer Croc.

"You... you love me, Waylon?" she asked. He nodded and pressed his face against her neck in a sort of nuzzling motion. "Then show me," she whispered.

Waylon watched with wide eyes as Katie began to unbutton what was left of her top. She shook it off and began to reach for her bra when she realized it was torn down the middle. She quickly grabbed it before it fell off her chest, but she saw Waylon lick his lips and decided to let go. With the bra falling to the bed, Katie's breasts were now exposed to her reptilian bedfellow.

He gawked at the breasts and drooled before reaching his large hand out to caress them, muttering, "Nice."

When his claw made contact, Katie flinched and the rough texture. Waylon stopped cupping them but did not take his hand away. She looked at him with the signal to continue and he did but more gently. His clawed thumb moved over her erect nipple multiple times making her moan and whimper. 

"W-Waylon..." Katie whimpered, "your thumb is- unf -kind of rough. Could y- oh -you use something else?"

"With pleasure," he purred as he removed his thumb. Katie was curious as to what he would do next and was surprised and slightly excited to see his tongue emerge from his maw. He licked the underside of her boobs repeatedly as his hands tried to unbutton her pants but failed. The tongue traveled to one of her nipples and flicked over it, causing her to mewl and twitch and gasp.

"Oh Waylon!" Katie moaned as she grabbed the sides of his head. She hadn't meant to do it but was glad she had as it gave her partner more access to her cleavage. His mouth opened wider and he put both of her breasts in his mouth, his teeth lightly poking them. His tongue swept over both of her breasts over and over and over, covering them in his saliva. 

Katie wasn't sure what she was feeling as Waylon lapped at her tits. Was it pleasure? Was it discomfort? Whatever it was, her lover was giving her a lot of it.

"Your tits taste good, Katie," he growled. He removed her breasts from his mouth and lightly licked her stomach, his tongue prodding her belly button. He stopped when her pants blocked his organ's path and bit down on the waist. Katie gave a little 'eep' at the ferocity and brutal treatment of her pants as they were torn off her body by Waylon's teeth. In his rush to get the pants off, he had not-so-accidentally torn her panties off as well. 

"Now there's a sight I've been longing to see," he said as he stared at Katie's clean womanhood. His head dipped down and headed straight for her pussy, his tongue trailing along her thighs. Slight arousal dripped down her legs as he got closer to her opening. He licked along the outsides of her folds over and over, making Katie's legs kick out in response. When Waylon felt like he had teased her enough, he plunged his large tongue in.

"Oh Waylon! Oh my god!" Katie screamed. That scream confirmed what she had been feeling throughout this entire experience: pleasure. That's what both of them felt. She never thought that something like this was possible with anyone, especially someone like Croc. His tongue trailed deeper into her until she began letting out certain kinds of moans, moans Waylon had heard only a few times from drunk whores paid to spend time with him.

He quickly retracted his tongue out of her pussy- not before giving it one last lick, of course -and stood back up, saying, "Ah ah ah, Katie. You don't get to finish just yet."

She whined at his cruel teasing, but she stopped when she saw him pull down his orange pants and toss them aside. She wasn't exactly sure where they landed yet she didn't care ash her gaze was focused on the large dick Waylon was sporting. It was already hard and throbbing, its pink and pale green head aimed at her.

"This your first time, love?" he asked as he grabbed his cock and began lightly jacking it. 

This wasn't her first time having sex with someone. No, that honor went to one Gregory Redds, a security officer at Arkham Asylum who had gone on a couple of dates with Katie before he had pressured her to sleep with him. After that night, he rarely spoke to her. Katie was depressed and distraught, but her mood lightened slightly when Redds was found beaten unconscious in his trashy apartment. No culprit was found, but Redds had given the statement that the attacker had some sort of costume on, so it could have been anyone.

"No," Katie replied hazily. She was too focused on the bulging manhood in front of her to give a more firm response. Her mind was swimming with thoughts about what was to come.

_Wow. He's big, _she thought. _Very big. There is no way that is going to fit._

He began to advance on her, but she quickly covered her still-wet pussy. He growled and reached for her hands and pulled them away before he climbed onto the bed. His cock flopped against her pussy and began to enter her folds, but Katie pressed her hands against his chest and began to whimper. He scooted back to make eye contact with her and saw fear and anticipation in her eyes.

"Please," she pleaded as she gripped his arms. "Be gentle?"

"Always," he replied as he pushed his dickhead against her wet folds. A few more thrusts and his head slipped in. Katie clenched her teeth and dragged her nails against Waylon's scaly arms. She panted and hissed in slight pain as she tried to adjust to his size. Meanwhile, Waylon was frozen in a thrusting motion and waited for Katie to get ready. As much as he desperately wanted to thrust rapidly without stopping until his swollen nuts were completely empty, he had to consider his lover and how fragile she was. 

She patted his arms as a sign to proceed, and so he did. He gave a few more thrusts and got his rod further in, making Katie's grunts of pain turn into moans of pleasure. It was truly surprising to see that she was enjoying something so big, but she was a human female after all. Many women her age longed for men with large endowments so why would she be any different?

"You okay?" he asked as he continued lightly thrusting.

"Keep going!" she pleaded, her tone changed from the cautious and scared doctor before to the eager and hungry goddess now beneath Waylon. He grinned and began thrusting harder and faster, beginning the true session of sex. Katie rubbed her arms against Waylon's moving muscles as he grunted and groaned in bliss, feeling her wet walls constrict around his penis. His large nuts slapped against her buttocks rapidly as they moaned in unison. Their orgasms were rapidly approaching as he continued thrusting and she continued moaning. Closer and closer they got and Waylon's thrusts got harder and faster.

"Almost... there..." he groaned as he pounded her faster than he had ever pounded anyone before. 

Katie gave a moan of acknowledgement and yelled, "Yes Waylon! Give it to me!"

He growled in carnal lust and kept thrusting until he felt his dams beginning to break. His reptilian tongue hung out of his mouth as he gave one more powerful thrust before he came. A mighty roar shook the room and possibly the entire building as he filled Katie with his cum. While Waylon filled her up, Katie shook and shrieked as her own orgasm occurred. 

Waylon's arms gave out at that point and he flopped onto Katie, nearly crushing her with his muscled weight. Her small warm body felt nice pressed against him, but he couldn't see her face. He immediately grabbed her and flipped over, making her lay on top of him. She rested against his scaled chest and smiled, feeling his warm body and rough hands hold her tightly. 

Many thoughts rushed through Katie's head, but she didn't want to deal with them. They were tomorrow's problem. All she wanted to do was lay in Waylon's arms and dream. What would she dream of? Would she dream of her and Waylon having a life together? Would she dream of running away in fear and disgust of what she had just done? She did not know nor care. All she cared about was Waylon Jones.

"I love you," she heard him whisper as he scooted her up to his chin.

She rubbed up against him and replied, "I love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally got through this chapter. I apologize for taking so long to bring this out but with all this junk going on in the world, having other projects to do, and other life stuff happening it's hard to keep this up. But I am back with a vengeance and a mission to repair this story until it is less terrible. So expect some editing of the previous chapters and longer waits to check the quality of the chapters going forward. Stay safe everyone!


End file.
